Vector's Challenge
by Kayla Rudbek
Summary: AU after GoF. Professor Vector makes a bet with Professor Snape that he can't be fair for one month. Snape/Vector. Belly dancing in later chapters.
1. The bet is made

Scene One 

Hogwarts, August.  

It was a sunny, hot August day, and the faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were a bit restless as they had their high tea.  It was far too lovely of a day to be trapped in an all-day staff meeting, but that was precisely what had happened that day.  So the mood in the faculty commons was a bit on the edgy side. Of course, the fact that they were trapped in a stuffy, crowded, hot room wearing thick, heavy robes and drinking tea instead of being outside on a terrace and enjoying the evening with cool drinks, ice cream, and cucumber sandwiches was enough to make anyone edgy.  It certainly had that effect on Emmy Vector, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape.  

Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape were having one of their usual sniping fests.    She finished with, "And Severus, do try to be a little bit easier on Longbottom, Potter, and the rest of the Gryffindors this year, will you?"  

" I merely give them what they deserve, Minerva."

The rest of the faculty within earshot emitted soft snorts and hmpfs of disbelief at this.  The perception of the entire faculty of Hogwarts was that Snape blatantly favored his Slytherins over every other house.  

Severus shot a challenging look at Professor Emmy Vector, who had thought she had muttered "Hogwash!" too quietly for anyone to hear.  "What did I hear you say, Emmy?" he murmured softly.

Emmy glared back at him.  _My Ravenclaws never get a fair shake from you, either, as well as Hermione Granger, my best student by far, even though she is a Gryffindor.  I've had enough of this._ She set her cup and saucer down on a nearby table with a menacing _clink_.

"I said 'Hogwash,' Severus."  His glare focused on her, and turned from the I'm-Merely-Annoyed setting to the I'm-Going-To-Make-You-Miserable setting.  "The unanimous perception among the faculty and the student body is that you blatantly favor your Slytherins over every other house, no matter what.  I personally don't think that you even know the meaning of the word fair, let alone can practice it."

 "Professor Vector of Ravenclaw House thinks that I can't be fair?  This from the woman who frightened almost all of Slytherin, three-quarters of Gryffindor, and half of Hufflepuff into dropping Arithmancy after fourth year?" 

"One.  That was the subject, not me.  Two.  They decided to take something where they didn't have to do any real work."  Vector looked as if she would have said more, but Sybil Trelawney looked sharply at her.  Vector decided not to start two fights at once.  Severus almost protested at Vector's comment, but she continued on.  "And furthermore, you're trying to change the subject.  I still think that you can't be fair to any of the students.  You coddle the bloody Slytherins and give the back of your hand to the rest.  Your precious Slytherins can do no wrong, and the rest of the Houses can do no right in your eyes, and we're all damned sick and tired of putting up with it!"  The rest of the faculty had fallen silent as Emmy drew herself up to her full five feet, five inches and shouted at Severus Snape. 

Snape stared back at Emmy Vector, the small woman with the long straight brown hair.  Merlin, but she was furious.   Her brown eyes burned with rage. Her slender hands were clutched into fists at her sides.  Snape decided that he had to calm her down.  

"One.  I am always fair.  Two.  Why should I bother behaving in the way you think is fair?  Why do I want the good opinion of idiots anyway?"

"Perception is reality, Severus," Vector replied.  

"I _know_ what fairness means, Vector, and furthermore, I know what you _think_ it means."

"So you say."

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"Merely of making a virtue of necessity."

Severus drew in his breath. "Do please explain yourself," he drawled.

Vector gave him a tight smile.  "Severus, you're no more capable of basic fairness than a snake is of tap-dancing.  It's not your fault, and I shouldn't have gotten angry.  I do apologize." 

Snape found a Ravenclaw making allowances to be as infuriating as most people found his Slytherin sneering.  "While I hate to deprive you of the pleasures of smugness," he replied, "I assure you that I could meet your standards of fairness if I had any reason to do so."

            McGonagall snorted.  "And of course, you'll never, ever have a reason."  Vector chuckled, and she and McGonagall nodded at each other.  Snape realized that he was in danger of losing smirking rights in this argument.

"Make me an offer."

Vector got a little grin on her face, and spoke in a light tone.  "Hah.  Severus, if you can act fairly towards all the students for one month this year, I swear I will do a belly dance at the Halloween Feast out in the Great Hall.  In Slytherin colors." 

Snape grew furious at Vector's light, airy tone.  _How dare she make light of_ me, he thought.  He stepped closer to her, close enough to touch if she had wanted to, close enough to rattle her.  He loomed over her, all six foot two of him, and said, "I'm serious," in the quiet Obedience-or-Death tones that intimidated even the Weasley twins.  

Emmy tilted her neck and head back to look up at him, and took a step back.  He moved to maintain that same, too-close distance.  _How dare he treat me like I'm still a naughty first-year_, she thought.  She narrowed her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and sneered back at him. "So am I.  If you can act fairly towards all the students for one full month before Halloween, I swear that I will do a belly dance at the Halloween Feast out in the Great Hall.  In Slytherin colors."

Severus felt himself smirk.  The thought of prim, proper Ravenclaw, Professor Emmy Vector doing an exotic dance in public was highly amusing.  _And she probably can't even dance worth a tinker's damn, either.  She'll make a total idiot out of herself.  Even more amusing_.  

"Oh, I don't think the Slytherin colors will be necessary, Emmy.  You are a Ravenclaw down to the bone, after all."

"Then it's a bet.  You act fairly towards the students for one full month this year before Halloween, handing out punishments and praise equally and with total disregard of House, and I will do a belly dance at the Halloween Feast out in the Great Hall.  And I will wear whatever colors and costume I please."

"And if he doesn't perform, Emmy, what then?" Flitwick asked.  Vector got a wicked grin on her face.  "If he can't act fairly toward the students for one full month, I will wash his hair for him at the Halloween Feast in the Great Hall.  With my own shampoo."  

"What, in front of the students?" Severus protested.  

"Exactly, in front of the students."  Emmy had a wicked little gleam in her eyes, and all the rest of the teachers in the staff commons had fallen totally silent to watch the two of them now.  Even the house-elves had fallen still as they watched Vector and Snape.

"You wouldn't dare -- I never agreed to any such thing --"

"Fair is fair, Severus.  I've got to give you some incentive besides watching me dance to perform on the bet."  

  
Snape changed his mind on the costume colors in that instant.  _If I'm running the risk of public humiliation, she has to as well.  _"All right, then.  Fine.  _When_ I act fairly toward the students for one month before Halloween, you will do a belly dance for us in the Great Hall at the Halloween feast.  In Slytherin colors."

Vector's eyebrow shot up, but then the look on her face changed to a pondering one, and finally a considering one.  She smirked and replied, "Agreed.  And _if_ you cannot act fairly toward the students for one month before Halloween, I get to wash your hair for you in the Great Hall at the Halloween Feast.  With my own shampoo.  In front of the students."  

"Agreed."  

"Done, then!"  the two professors said together, and shook hands on it.   

            McGonagall raised her eyebrows, and Dumbledore nodded at her.  The two of them drifted over into a secluded corner.  "Two pecks of lemon drops says that Severus will be able to manage it," Dumbledore whispered, with a gleam in his eye.  

            McGonagall snorted.  "A bottle of Glenfiddich says that he can't, Albus," she retorted.  

            Around the rest of the Common Room, other little knots were coming together and parting.  Sinistra put three to two on Snape, Flitwick put ten to one on Vector.  Hootch, Sprout, Trelawney, and Hagrid were muttering together for a while as well.  

  



	2. Something is fishy

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter. My conception of Professor Vector might be mine, depending on how well I can argue. 

Thanks to NiteQueen for wanting more. Thanks to Brooke for being the ever-patient beta, egging me on, and making Snape and the Slytherins snarky, nasty, and in character. 

Chapter Two. 

On the first day of classes, the fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins had double Potions together. Something was a little strange this year, though. Snape seemed to be constrained somehow; as if there were all sorts of things he was restraining himself from saying. He kept pausing quite a lot, and he hadn't taken points off any of the Gryffindors before he finished explaining the day's potion. 

Draco Malfoy mentally noted this fact, and decided that Snape must be ill. _This means that I can have some extra fun in here_, he thought as the class got to work. Draco grinned as he slipped the dried Flobberworm into Neville's cauldron. Unfortunately for him, Snape was watching him out of the corner of his eye. 

"Fifteen points from Slytherin, Malfoy, for attempting to ruin another student's potion," Snape said. 

Malfoy looked aghast. "But sir, I wasn't doing anything, honest." 

Snape sneered back at him. "Do you think that I was born yesterday, Malfoy? And another ten points from Slytherin for lying to a teacher." 

"But sir --"

"QUIET! And a detention for your insolence, Malfoy!"

The rest of the students watched the exchange in total shock. _Snape_ taking away points from the Slytherins? Snape giving _Malfoy_ a detention? "Bloody hell," Seamus Finnegan whispered under his breath. "The world's coming to an end, it is." 

"I heard that, Finnegan. Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek."

_Something is desperately wrong here,_ Harry thought. 

And so class went on in that vein, with Snape actually acting fairly for a change. He took off points from Crabbe & Goyle "for blatant stupidity," and actually managed to give Hermione and Parvati Patil points for getting their potions right. At the end of class, the Slytherins were down by 35 points and one detention, and the Gryffindors were five points ahead. 

"What the bloody hell is going on with old Snape?" Ron asked as they moved down the hall to their next class. "He never gives the Slytherins a hard time, ever. No matter how much they deserve it."

"He never gave us Gryffindors points before, ever." This was Hermione, sounding happier than Harry had ever heard her after a Potions class. 

"Something is desperately wrong here," Harry told the others. "What if this isn't Snape?"

"Like Polyjuice or something?" Hermione asked. "Although he wasn't drinking anything during class, and it was double Potions, so over an hour, so it couldn't possibly be Polyjuice, unless he's discovered some sort of other Potion or spell. I'll have to go to the Library and do some research to find out if there's anything else that could change a person's appearance."

"I wonder if he's got some sort of terminal condition," Seamus Finnegan said. 

"What?" Ron asked. 

Seamus gave an exasperated sigh. "I wonder if he found out that he's going to die soon, and that's why he's acting so strange. He's trying to earn his way into heaven, as my grandmother would say." 

"I wonder if Dumbledore would tell us," Harry mused. 

Ron shook his head. "Not bloody likely. He never tells us anything."

"Hmm. Hagrid might. We've got Care of Magical Creatures after lunch."

"Or Dobby might tell us, or at least you, Harry. And we might get a chance to see him at lunch," Hermione pointed out.  
  


"Ha! As if! Do you remember how long it took him to talk to me the last time he had something important to tell me, Hermione? And how much physical damage I took? No, I think we're best off asking Hagrid first."

But Hagrid was strangely closed-mouthed in class that afternoon when Harry asked him about Snape's odd behavior. "None o' yer concern, Harry. It's Professors' business."

"Well, can you at least tell me that there isn't any Dark magic involved? No identity changing, like last year with Professor Moody?"

"Nah, there's none o' that, Harry. It's just that -- well, it's staff room business, that's all. An' I doan't loike talking about that wi' students."

"Staff room business?" Hermione asked. "So it's more than one professor who's involved?"

"Aye, Hermione."

"Who is it then, and who's involved?" she asked. 

"Iffen I tell yer, she's goin' to be roight upset about it getting out," Hagrid replied. 

"So it's a she. Who is it? Professor McGonagall? Professor Trelawney? Professor Sinistra? Professor Vector?" the three asked in turns.

"None o' yer business, an' I shouldn't ha' even said anythin' in the first place," Hagrid replied. 

And pester Hagrid as they might, no one could get any further facts from him on the subject of Snape's behavior. 

  



	3. The students find out

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter. My conception of Professor Vector might be mine, depending on how well I can argue. 

Thanks to NiteQueen for wanting more. Thanks to Brooke for being the ever-patient beta, egging me on, and making Snape and the Slytherins snarky, nasty, and in character. 

Chapter Three

After two weeks of pestering Hagrid, every other teacher and staff member they thought would talk to them, the portraits, and even the ghosts, Harry finally gave in and admitted that they had to talk to Dobby. Snape's odd, fair, behavior had continued in every single one of his classes, and even after hours. A Gryffindor second-year had only gotten five points taken off after Snape had caught her out after curfew. The Slytherins had taken to owling home every single day, demanding (a) a new Head of House, (b) deliverance from the madman who was impersonating Snape, (c) weaponry both magical and non-magical to use against the imposter Snape. 

A delegation of the seventh-year Slytherins had even attempted to question Dumbledore about Snape's behavior, but had only gotten a sugar high and the direction "Ask Professor Snape about it yourselves." None of them had dared to do that yet. 

Harry decided that the best way to do it was to get Dobby into the Gryffindor Common Room, where there would be plenty of witnesses in case Dobby decided to try to warn Harry off his questioning. Fred and George slipped down to the kitchens, and brought Dobby back up with them. 

"How was Harry Potter's summer?" Dobby asked Harry.

"Just fine, Dobby," Harry replied. 

"How were things here at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked Dobby.

"Oh, things is very tense, Miss Granger. Professor Vector is making a naughty bet with Professor Snape at the staff retreat."

"WHAT? Professor Vector made a naughty bet with Snape?" Hermione shrieked. 

"Oi, what exactly got bet?" Ron was very interested now. 

Dobby sighed. "Professor Vector was after betting that Professor Snape could not be fair to all the students for one month, sir."

Harry laughed. "Easiest money Professor Vector ever made."

Dobby shook his head. "It is not money that Professor Vector has bet, sir."

"So what did she bet?" Ron asked. The rest of the Gryffindor boys asked, "Yeah, what did she bet? Come on and tell us, Dobby!"

"If Professor Vector is losing the bet, she will do a belly dance at the Halloween Feast, wearing Slytherin colors."

The Gryffindor boys made appreciative noises, and the girls looked appalled. "Oh, come on, she'll never lose," Hermione spat out. 

"Yeah, that's right. So what does Snape have to do if and when he loses?" Longbottom asked. 

Dobby smiled. "If Professor Snape is losing the bet, then Professor Vector is washing his hair for him at the Halloween Feast."

Ron started to laugh, and all the students beyond first year joined him in a moment. "This is perfect," Fred said to him. "We should make sure that we fix this somehow." 

"Fix this how?" George asked. "Fix the bet or fix Snape when he loses?"

"Both, of course," Fred replied. Everyone laughed, and then settled down for some serious plotting. 

Of course, the rest of the school then proceeded to find out about the bet, in a somewhat distorted fashionÉ.

Millicent Bulstrode practically pelted into the Slytherin common room, eyes full of tears. She saw Professor Snape, and her eyes lit with relief. 

"Sir, sir, is the rumor true?" Bulstrode asked Snape. 

"And what rumor is that, Miss Bulstrode?" Snape replied.

"Is it, is it, true that you have a b-b-bet that P-P-Professor Vector is g-going to snog you at the Halloween Feast?" Bulstrode stammered out.

"What? Certainly not! Who told you that?"

"I-I overheard some Gryffindors talking in the girls' bathroom, sir. They said something about a bet between you and Professor Vector, and one of them said something about how Vector will 'snog you senseless after that,' sir." Bulstrode looked truly distressed. 

Snape looked around the room. All his Slytherins looked worried. Very worried. 

"And is the rumor true that you're ternilmally ill, sir?" Draco asked him. 

"Ternilmally -- terminally ill? No, Mr. Malfoy. I am not fatally ill, I have not been replaced with a duplicate, I am not insane, or any of the other rumors that have been spread around." 

"But then, what's going on, sir?" Parkinson wailed. 

Snape sneered as he replied, "I had hoped that you would find out the information for yourselves. Instead, I find it necessary to spoon-feed it to you. Instead of being a credit to your House and finding out what's going on around you, by whatever means possible or necessary, you've all been whining like eleven-year-old Hufflepuffs." 

The Slytherins' faces started to take on a relieved look. Snarling Snape was back.

Snape turned toward Corentyn Warrington. "Warrington, did you really think your parents would send you a Sure-Shooter Stronginthearm?"

Warrington retorted, in a tone more relieved than outraged, "But I sent them that message secretly!"

Snape shook his head. "Warrington. Honestly. Do you think that I would be a weak old fool like some other persons I could mention?"

He turned his attention to the girls. "Parkinson, Bulstrode has apparently outdone you. At least _she_ can keep her ears open _some_ of the time, unlike the rest of you."

One of the first-years, Robin Zabini, called Zabini Minor whenever Blaise was around, started to cry. Snape was taken aback. He didn't think he was even close to reducing the students to tears. Zabini Minor sniffled, "Oh, Professor, it _is_ you." Snape was suddenly filled with affection for his pit of vipers, although of course it would not do to let them know of it. 

"Do you know, sir, I was planning to poison you?" Malcolm Baddock said. Snape paused for a moment. "And just how were you planning on doing that, Baddock?" he asked, like a proud, critical father. 

Baddock glared back at him "I was going to put arsenic into your firewhiskey hip flask!" the impertinent boy retorted. Everyone laughed at this. 

"An old classic," Snape replied, "but you had better observe your potential victims more closely. Do I have a hip flask? Do I use it?" The boy's head shook no for each question, but then Snape smiled. "Not a bad thought for a mere second-year. Defend the House and the School no matter what. Ten points to Slytherin for advanced thinking." 

Now all the Slytherins were happy again. Their Professor Snape was back. "So what is going on, sir?" Warrington asked. 

Snape gave them a tight smile. "I have been reluctant to inform you children, but since the cat is coming out of the bag, I may as well inform you of the true situation."

The Slytherins looked at him expectantly. "Professor Vector and I made a wager at the last staff meeting in August that I could not act fairly towards all the students for one month." Jaws dropped as the wheels turned in the Slytherins' heads. 

"So _that's_ why you've been acting so strange," Draco whispered. 

"Precisely, Mr. Malfoy. When I win the wager, she has agreed to do a belly dance in the Great Hall at the Halloween Feast, while wearing Slytherin colors." All the boys over the age of puberty emitted appreciative noises at this news. 

"And what if you don't win, sir?" Parkinson asked. 

Snape frowned. "If perchance I should happen to lose, Professor Vector will wash my hair for me at the Halloween Feast."

The Slytherin males shuddered at this news. The Slytherin females looked appalled and disgusted. 

Snape looked back at them, and gave them all a slow smile. "Don't disappoint me, now. Carry on." And with that, Snape turned on his heel, swirled his cloak, and headed off to his quarters. 

After he left, the Slytherins all started to talk at once. "No more letters home -- we have to support the Old Bastard -- even if we lose House points -- but we still have to try our best -- no, if we behave everywhere else, we can keep our House points --" 

That same day in the Ravenclaw Common room, one of the Ravenclaw second-year girls, Janet Dorny, who had been in that same bathroom marched in and indignantly told them what the Gryffindor girls were saying about "that horrible Professor Snape and their dear Professor Vector." 

Their dear Professor Vector was sitting in a cozy, hidden nook in the common room, reading The Kabala of Numbers, a Handbook of Interpretation**, **by A. Sepharial. She cleared her throat after the girl was done speaking. All the students present looked at her. Dorny gave a guilty start. Vector calmly told her Ravenclaws, "When Snape loses, I'll wash his hair for him." 

Terry Boot asked her, "What if you lose?" 

Professor Vector replied, "Hah! There are three chances that Snape will win: slim, fat and none." She paused for a moment. "It's really none of your business anyway." She fell silent again. "And even if he should chance to win, you lot know that I can dance, but don't you dare let any of the Slytherins know that. I don't want to be hit with a Jelly-Legs Curse before I start." 

Stephen Cornfoot asked her, "What kind of dance?" 

Vector grew irritated at the thought of making the bet, remembering Snape's tone of voice, how he had talked to her as though she were still the little first-year she had been when she first met him. She snapped out, "A belly dance, wearing as little as is compatible with an institution of higher learning." 

The Ravenclaw males groaned at this news. "Crikey! Now we understand what's meant by mixed motives!" Kevin Entwhistle muttered. 

Vector grinned. "Woman does not live by learning alone." 

  



	4. Professor's Night Out

Chapter Four Girls Just Want to Have Fun -- homage to Judith Tarr 

Author's Notes: Thanks once again to Brooke the Snarkmeister, whom I swear channels Snape. Also thanks to NiteQueen, Lorelei Wood, griffon, queenalissa, Wishlahaylagon, and StarOfMidnight, who all reviewed and liked it.****

Edinburgh, ca. September 14, 1995

Emmy Vector Donovan was panting as the final bars of "Misirilou" played. _I am so incredibly out of shape_, she thought. She hadn't been to her Thursday night dance class since Hogwarts and the University had started up, almost two whole weeks now. 

"Well, that's all for this week, ladies," Giana, their instructor, said. "See you on Tuesday."

Most of the other women in the class rushed to get back to the changing room, but Emmy held back from the rush. 

"What is it, Emmy?" Giana asked Emmy. Giana was a tall, thin woman, seemingly in her fifties, with faded red hair and clear green eyes, quite unlike the usual stereotype of belly dancers. 

Emmy sighed. "This is so embarrassing, Giana."

"What did you do this time, Emmy?" Giana asked, with a smirk on her face.

"Well, I made a bet with one of my colleagues at the school that I teach part-time at -- not the Uni, the children's school -- and if I lose, I might have to perform for the entire school."

"How much time do you have to prepare, dear?"

Emmy let out a breath. "I think about five or six weeks from now until the performance date that I set, which is Halloween night." 

"Well, that isn't so bad, Emmy. How much space and time do you have for your dance?"

"Hmm." Emmy thought for a moment. "I'm thinking about an hour max in terms of time -- after all, the littlest ones will probably be a bit bored. I have plenty of floor space for a change, more really than I know what to do with, and that's what's so unnerving." 

"Well, you don't want to use too large or too small of an area, dear." 

"True. I was also wondering whether I should do a tribal-style or a cabaret."

"Well, the older boys would probably love to see you do a cabaret-style, right?"

"And how. Bunch of hormones, the lot of them. I'd never be able to control them after that." _Unless I used spells that would bring the Ministry down on me like a ton of bricks._

"So why are you even considering a cabaret-style? Is there a man whom you want to dance for?"

"Err -- no." Giana snorted disbelievingly. "Oh -- yes, all right, there is. But I don't think it'd do any good if I danced naked for him."

"Is he more interested in men?"

"Giana!" 

"Well, is he?"

"I don't think so, although of course you can never tell." Emmy shrugged her shoulders. She sighed and continued on. "The main problem, though, is that he and my brother Mike were in the same class at school."

"Ah. I begin to see the problem."

"Yes. Mike was such an overprotective, insufferable prat my first year that I didn't have a date until I was a seventh-year myself and he'd been six years gone. I'm sure he said something to some point to every male at school about leaving his little sister alone." 

"Well, that was many years ago. This man you want should be more courageous now if he is to deserve you."

"True. But I still think that Severus sees me as that flat-chested, four-eyed, awkward, eleven-year-old girl rather than a thirty-year-old woman."

"Mm. So you want to show Severus that you are a woman."

"Yes, without giving those walking hormonal disaster areas ideas."

"Oh, they have ideas no matter what."

"True. What should I do, Giana?"

"I tell you what. Why don't we come up with two routines for you. One for cabaret, and one if you decide to be a chicken and do the tribal style."

"It's not being a chicken, it's being sensible. And besides, if men have ideas no matter what, then I could wear a burlap sack and still give him ideas." 

Giana laughed. "A burlap sack! Come, let's talk dance and costume over some coffee. Maybe you could do both routines with an intermission." 

And the two women went to change and go out to talk.

  



	5. Ain't Misbehavin I

Chapter 5 Ain't Misbehavin' I  
  
Three weeks after the first day of classes, the Slytherins and Gryffindors had double Potions together again. This time, however, the Slytherins knew what was going on, and walked into class with a plan.  
  
Pansy Parkinson and Seamus Finnegan were partners that day. She waited until Finnegan had his back turned, and dropped a handful of ice cubes into his cauldron. Snape did not have his back turned. "Miss Parkinson, what did you just do?" he asked her.  
  
"I put some ice cubes into Finnegan's cauldron because I wanted to see how this potion would turn out if it were chilled, sir."  
  
"Miss Parkinson, unauthorized experiments on another student's cauldron are NOT allowed. Ten points from Slytherin."  
  
During this exchange but on the other side of the classroom, Millicent Bulstrode pulled the henbane out of Neville Longbottom's hand, and switched it with the hemlock. Crabbe and Goyle, meanwhile, were standing in just the right positions to block Snape's view and the Three Gryffindors as well. She whispered, "Done," and they moved again.  
  
Harry and Ron looked at Millicent, who had settled back to working with Lavendar Brown. They looked at Neville's cauldron. It was still intact, and the potion was turning the correct color. If we tell Snape, he'll just take points off from Bulstrode to show Professor Vector he's being fair, Harry thought. And whatever she did doesn't seem to have caused any harm. He looked at Ron. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he whispered.  
  
"That we should just stay quiet? Yes," Ron replied.  
  
Snape continued to stalk around the classroom and check finished potions. He paused when he got to Neville's. "I don't believe it," he muttered.  
  
Neville muttered even more softly, "Neither do I."  
  
Snape loomed over Neville and looked at him like a snake at a mouse. Harry and Ron had to hold Hermione back from coming to Neville's defense. Ron slapped his hand over her mouth, and Harry grabbed her arms.  
  
After a long moment, Snape asked quietly, "How did it happen, Mr. Longbottom, that you actually got a potion right?"  
  
Neville squeaked, "I don't know, sir."  
  
Snape raised his eyebrows. "You don't know whether this is a miracle, or truly inspired cheating?" Crabbe and Goyle started a bit at that. Parkinson froze, and Bulstrode's face took on a very bland look. Snape noticed this out of the corners of his eyes. Neville's glance briefly followed Snape's over to Bulstrode and Parkinson. Everyone else's eyes were on Snape or Neville.  
  
There was a moment of silence. Neville closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them, squared his shoulders and replied, "I think it's a miracle, sir."  
  
Snape looked startled at this comeback. "Indeed. Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom. There may be hope for you yet."  
  
"And thank you, St. Jude, for prayers answered," Seamus Finnegan muttered. All of the other Catholic students within earshot, and a few of the non- Catholic Muggle-born students as well, laughed at that.  
  
"Excuse me, but what is so amusing?" Snape asked. "Who is St. Jude, and why are you invoking him or her?"  
  
The Catholic students started to laugh even harder. "He-he's the patron saint of lost and impossible causes," Seamus gasped out.  
  
"Patron saints - oh, yes Catholicism," Snape muttered to himself.  
  
"Isn't that where you get to have your God and eat him too?' Draco asked.  
  
Semaus took a step toward Draco.  
  
"That will do, both of you. Religious bigotry has no place in our world. You ought to know that, Malfoy," Snape said. Seamus and Draco looked at Snape, startled.  
  
Snape continued, more loudly, "Catholicism has patron saints of impossible causes? Such as Mr. Longbottom actually managing to get a potion correct. I see. Very well." Snape then continued to check the other students' potions. Neville nodded to Millicent, and smiled a silent thank you. She raised her eyebrows, and Neville gave her a second, uncertain, nod. She smiled, and nodded back, then jerked her head in Parkinson, Goyle and Crabbe's directions. Neville looked more uncertain, but the Slytherins all nodded to him, and he nodded back. 


	6. Ain't Misbehavin' II

Chapter 6 Ain't Misbehavin' II  
  
The situation in the sixth-year Ravenclaw-Slytherin Potions class later on that week was a bit more chaotic. It was amazing how much havoc you could wreak in the Potions classroom if you really set your mind to it: incompatible ingredients, the wrong sequence, exploding the cauldrons, et cetera. The sixth-year Slytherins had used ice cubes, knowingly mixed up ingredients, and destroyed three of the Ravenclaws' cauldrons during class earlier that week. Some of them had even done business with the Weasley twins, and in total, seven of the Ravenclaws had gone to the infirmary that Tuesday.  
  
Thus, on that Thursday, the Ravenclaws walked in hell-bent on revenge. Cho Chang had spent a great deal of her infirmary time freezing carbon dioxide with some charms. Roger Davies had conjured up a golfball-sized chunk of sodium, and had cut it into fourths.  
  
Chang started off the prank war that morning. She pulled out a large chunk of dry ice the instant Snape turned his back, and threw it into the closest Slytherin's cauldron. It sublimated in the hot potion instantly, and let off a great deal of fog in the process.  
  
Snape turned around. "Miss Chang! What is going on here?"  
  
Cho attempted to look innocent. Montague, the Slytherin, said, "I dumped something really cold into my own cauldron, sir."  
  
"Unauthorized experiments on your own cauldron are not allowed, Mr. Montague. Five points from Slytherin."  
  
On the other side of the classroom, Davies threw a piece of sodium into Corentyn Warrington's cauldron. It reacted with the potion to create even more smoke. Then the cauldron exploded. Pieces of metal flew everywhere.  
  
Chang disposed of all her dry ice, and Davies of all his sodium. Snape had to send Adrian Pucey running for Madam Pomfrey. The entire class wound up in the infirmary with injuries from the cauldron shards or reactions to breathing in the potion vapors. Everyone's skin had turned fuchsia with chartreuse scales, and their noses had turned into pig snouts.  
  
"I think that you should have kept quiet about your bet, and not dragged the students into it," Pomfrey tartly said to Snape after she had taken care of the rest of the injured. "I've had to do more patching up this week from your Potions classes than I normally do in the whole fall term."  
  
"Even with Potter and his crew around?" Snape replied.  
  
"At least with Potter it's only a few problems to deal with," Pomfrey said. "This bet is exciting three out of the four Houses."  
  
"At least it's getting them interested in Potions," Snape replied. "They had to study to do all this damage."  
  
"Humph."  
  
"It'll be over in a week," Snape replied. "I think that things should settle back down to normal after that."  
  
Pomfrey sniffed. "They had better," she replied. "Otherwise, I'm going to speak to the Headmaster about it."  
  
"Do you really think the Headmaster will put a stop to this?" Snape asked her.  
  
Pomfrey paused for a moment. "Well, he ought to."  
  
"That wasn't what I asked," Snape replied.  
  
"Humph. You should speak with Vector and call it off."  
  
"Why quit when I'm so close?" Snape retorted.  
  
But on that Friday, with the first-year Slytherin-Ravenclaw class, Snape wished that he had called the bet off early. He was in an absolutely foul mood that morning. He had been having dreams that he found quite troubling, dreams about Emmy Vector. I see her dressed as a dancer, and then in nothing at all. Oh Merlin. That crazy damn fool woman and her stupid bet are going to drive me absolutely insane.  
  
He knew he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with the woman. Even if her brother didn't kill him, there was no way that she would even look at him, let alone stay with him when she found out what he'd done in the past. She's so innocent, so pure and honorable. What chance do I have of convincing a woman like that to put up with a man like me? The instant she found out that I was a Death Eater in the past, never mind finding out what I actually did, she'd run.  
  
He had watched her all through breakfast that morning. She was so serene and calm. She had a face that could have been found in an Egyptian tomb painting, only paler, a sketch in white and brown rather than olive and black. She was wearing navy blue robes that morning. Why didn't the woman ever wear bright colors during the week? It was always navy or brown with her. He wanted to see her in yellow or green, a nice light green for a change. Like in your dreams last night, Snape?  
  
I will never get to kiss her, never get to see her smile in love at me, never make her moan with passion in the night. I lost that chance when I first got this damnable Mark put onto my arm. All I can do now is skulk in the shadows, watch her, and dream of her at night. The fool woman doesn't even see me as a man, just as a target to tease and play games with. I should play games with her. Drag her down to my dungeons one night, strip her naked, and play games with her until she's begging for mercy. Or at least until one of us is begging for mercy.  
  
Merlin! What have I become? Even when I was with the Death Eaters, I never went in for rape. I thought that was because I had some moral standards left, but I see now it was only because I never saw a woman I liked that much. And I don't really want to rape her, not really. But how else would I ever get into bed with her? Even my subconscious knows that I have no chance with her.  
  
He knew he would never do anything to harm her, though. Between incurring Dumbledore's and Michael Vector's wrath, it would be tantamount to committing suicide.  
  
Maybe I should start invoking this St. Jude that she'll look at me favorably for just one night. After all, her being interested in me would be an impossible and lost cause, never mind staying with me.  
  
And then he had to go deal with first-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins, instead of going back to bed and skipping the sadistic parts of his dreams without meaning to, going straight to the good bits. He found it very disturbing that instead of screaming "Stop, please don't," in his dreams, she was moaning, "please don't stop." It was enough to drive a man to drink.  
  
The students were doing everything possible to get on his last nerve. One of the first-year Ravenclaws, Eleanor Cornfoot, had figured out in advance that the potion for that day's class was fairly acidic. She had then conjured up a solution of sodium sulfide in class while his back was turned, poured it into her own cauldron, and essentially gassed the class out with the foul rotten-egg stench of hydrogen sulfide. To add insult to injury, she then attempted to place the blame on one of the more particularly stupid and anti-Muggle Slytherins. At least there had been a bright side to the entire mess. He had gotten to take points off the Ravenclaws for causing the trouble as well as for the Slytherins for attempting to take the credit. After all, the terms of the bet were that he would be fair, not blind. 


	7. Of Graphs and Trends I

Chapter 7  
  
Ain't Misbehavin' III  
  
Emmy Vector was not a happy woman on that Friday. It had been three weeks, and Snape had actually managed to behave himself for that entire time. If he had managed to hold out that long, there wasn't much chance that he would mess things up in this last week, no matter how much provocation he got from his students. She was going to have to find another way to prove just how unfair Snape was. Her glance drifted over to her filing cabinet, and then the solution popped full-blown into her head. She opened up the drawer marked Students' Grades, and pulled out all the folders for the Slytherin arithmancy students. She carried them into her classroom, and set them down on her desk and started to work. It would be all pop quizzes today until she finished this off.  
  
Emmy Vector looked through her graphs of her students' grades for the fifteenth time to check the results. The trend was clear. Millicent Bulstrode's grades had shot dramatically up during this term, far higher than her past history in Arithmancy would indicate. And if I remember correctly, Sinistra and Binns both said something about catching her cheating quite a bit in their classes first year. She looked out at her fifth-year, Slytherin/Gryffindor class as they took their quiz. But nothing ever happened to her, because Snape always turned a blind eye. If he's doing it again, I can get him for that, and then I win the bet. But how the devil is the girl cheating? I can't figure it out. She's not wearing a hat, I've been watching her practically the whole time, I have a Sneakoscope on my desk, I had the students put all their papers and books away under their desks, and she doesn't seem to have anything written on her limbs.  
  
Bulstrode was the first to finish the quiz, and walked up to hand it in. As she turned away, Vector asked her, "Might I have a word with you after class, Miss Bulstrode?"  
  
Bulstrode merely looked puzzled, but replied softly, "Yes, Professor Vector."  
  
"Good. Please sit down and wait until class is over."  
  
As the rest of the students finished their quiz, Vector checked through Bulstrode's answers. Absolutely perfect. No work whatsoever to do here. It's as if she had the answer key in her hand.  
  
After all the students had left, Vector stood up and said, "Please come here, Miss Bulstrode."  
  
Bulstrode came over to Vector's desk. "Sit down, Miss Bulstrode." Emmy let the silence build as she focused a steady glare on Bulstrode. No matter how hard of a Slytherin you are, my girl, I intend to rattle your cage at the very least.  
  
Bulstrode indeed broke first, with the question, "What do you want to talk to me about, Professor Vector?"  
  
Vector glared into her eyes. "Bulstrode, I have reason to suspect that you are cheating in this class. I cannot determine your method, so I am prepared to offer you amnesty and house points if you explain how you are doing it."  
  
Bulstrode';s jaw dropped open. "I-I-I'm not cheating at all, ma'am!"  
  
"My statistics do not appear to indicate that. Prove it to me."  
  
Bulstrode looked upset and frightened now. Vector could see her eyes starting to glisten. "H-h-how, m-m-ma'am?"  
  
Vector started to fire off question after question on the class material at her. Bulstrode answered every single one of them correctly, even starting to argue with Vector over the correct answer at some points. Vector took it up a notch, into sixth-year material, then into seventh-year, and finally into a discussion of an interesting problem that had appeared in the latest issue of Arithmantical Review Letters. Bulstrode had totally lost her stammer and any signs of hostility, and her gray eyes were glowing with sheer pleasure at the beauty of Number and Problem-Solving.  
  
Vector paused. "So Bulstrode, if you're this good at Arithmancy, why did you do so poorly the last two years?"  
  
"Because I was cheating then, Professor Vector," the impertinent chit replied.  
  
"Why? If you know the material that well, why did you ever cheat before?" Vector asked, totally mystified.  
  
"Because I needed the practice," Bulstrode replied, in a matter-of-fact tone.  
  
"You needed practice in cheating? Did Professor Snape tell you that?" Vector asked, thoroughly appalled by such a Slytherin concept.  
  
Bulstrode's plain face glowed at the mention of Professor Snape, like a bird in the presence of St. Francis of Assisi. Oh, God, I hope that she doesn't have a crush on the man, Vector thought.  
  
"Professor Snape said that learning the history of the goblin rebellions is good training for NEWTS, but learning how to pass information without getting caught is good training for life," Bulstrode retorted.  
  
"I see," Vector responded, in a tone that should have frozen the air around her. "Well, Miss Bulstrode, consider these following facts. One. I caught you using Arithmancy, so it does have some practical uses. Two. If you had showed your ability over the last two years, you could have won your House, oh, I estimate at least fifty points in those two years." And Slytherin would have won over Gryffindor in at least one of those years, if I remember correctly. Go chew on that for a while, girl. "Three. Consider well the sources of your information. If you had picked an informant of comparable ability to your own, you would probably have performed at least as well as Malfoy. Four. If you perform to the best of your ability, I expect you to beat everyone in this class hands down from now on, including Malfoy and Granger."  
  
Bulstrode's jaw dropped again. "You expect me to beat everyone else in this class? Including Granger?"  
  
Vector smiled. "Miss Bulstrode, that last problem we were discussing was one from the last issue of Arithmantical Review Letters. It was miles beyond an OWL-level or even a NEWT-level problem. In fact, I would be very interested in submitting a reply, with the two of us as joint authors."  
  
Bulstrode's eyes were as wide as saucers now. "Oh, Merlin, Professor Vector. That's got to be the nicest thing that anybody's ever said to me." And she broke into tears as she sat in her chair.  
  
Vector held the girl about the shoulders and patted her on the back while she cried. She's taller than I am, and she's only fifteen. Poor child. And to have one of the nicest things anybody ever said to you come out of being accused of cheating - Oh, God. The poor dear child. Somebody should shanghai you away from those awful relatives of yours. And at that moment, Emmy Vector resolved to save Millicent Bulstrode if she could. 


	8. Of Graphs and Trends II

Chapter 8  
  
More graphs and trends; or, I'll catch that man yet.  
  
Emmy Vector shook her head as she looked at the graphs of the House points that Monday morning. Something seemed very strange about these newest graphs. She pulled out the master class schedule to check the trends again. The results were clear. The four-color linear graphs of House points versus class time clearly showed that the Slytherins were losing house points during Potions class, and gaining them at every other time. She went to the filing cabinet and pulled out last year's file of House points versus class time. She then took some new graph paper out of her desk drawer. It was always easiest to start the graph by hand first, at lest for her.  
  
"Hmm. Let's see, House points versus professor, - let's make this a bar graph, a bar for each House -- Enscribare Data!" Yes, Snape was taking points from the Slytherins. Fascinating. "And now, let's do it per year. First, Duplicatus." This duplicated Vector's bar graph. "And how long has Snape been here? Thirteen-odd years? Duplicatus Triskadeka." And thirteen copies of the original graph appeared. Changing the data so that she had one graph for each year Snape had been teaching was now a piece of cake. Much easier and faster than in the Muggle world, Vector thought.  
  
She sighed. The trend was clear, but explaining it to Dumbledore was going to take some time. She gathered up all the bar graphs she had made and put them into a separate folder. Then she put the regular graphs of the House points versus class time into another folder. Time for the weekly report. She sighed again, and left her office.  
  
She barely noticed the students as she walked through the halls. "Jelly Babies," Vector said at the Headmaster's door. The statue slid away, and it revealed the stairs. This is going to take a very long time, she thought as she walked up the stairs.  
  
She was right about the time. She had to talk Dumbledore through every single graph, and explain the results to him over and over again. She even had to put all the line graphs together in a marvelous three-dimensional explosion of color, and then explain that to him.  
  
"Are you entirely sure about your results, Emmy?" Dumbledore asked her, after she had shown him all the graphs, done the multidimensional display, spread them out all over his desk, and talked for a solid forty- five minutes.  
  
"I'm sure, sir," she replied. "Snape has never taken points from the Slytherins before, in all the years he's been teaching here. Yet here he's taking points from the Slytherins this year, and the Slytherins are starting to behave themselves and earn more points in the other classes. And there's an absolutely huge spike in the number of points he's taking from the Slytherins in this last week."  
  
"Well, I'm glad to know that, Emmy."  
  
Emmy narrowed her eyes, and then gave him a grin. "Hmm. What have you got riding on my challenge, sir, and with whom?"  
  
Dumbledore's face took on an innocent look. "Did I say anything about betting on Severus's conduct, Emmy?"  
  
"Humph. I know you, Albus. Well, if you do win, let them know that I'm the one who gets your lemon drops for you, now."  
  
"Indeed, I shall."  
  
Emmy Vector laughed. "So what should I do about all these odd trends these past weeks? Slytherin losing points from their own Head of House?"  
  
"Well, why don't you ask him about that, and about why your Ravenclaws are losing so many points in that class as well?"  
  
"What -" Emmy looked at the line graphs quickly again. Both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were losing points like crazy in Potions. "You're correct. I guess it didn't stand out too much. It fit his usual patterns."  
  
"Indeed. Yet it also shows a great increase within the last week. Curious."  
  
"Within the last week. My House knows, and if my House knows.they knew from Gryffindor, and if Gryffindor knows, that means that the whole bloody school knows about the bet!" Her voice increased in volume from conversational to a shriek as she said this. "Curse that man! Accio graphs! Accio folders!" she shouted. The graphs flew toward her, and she grabbed all of them and haphazardly stuffed them, crumpled, into the folders.  
  
She nodded at Dumbledore, "Sir," and then pelted out of the room, her brown dress flapping as she took the stairs two at a time. She had to give a certain Potions Master a ding about the ear. 


	9. In the Dungeons

Chapter 9  
  
Catching that man.  
  
Vector paid no attention to the students as she ran through the halls. She heard McGonagall cry out, "Emmy!" as she ran, but paid no attention to that either. Vector ran down the stairs, through the dungeon corridors, rounded a corner, and caromed like a pinball off Snape. Graph paper and folders scattered everywhere.  
  
"Ooof! Professor Vector, what is the meaning of this?" he asked as he got up, then pulled her up.  
  
"They know!" Vector spat out at him. "You told your little Slytherin bastards about the bet!"  
  
Snape frowned at her. "They are not all my bastards, Professor Vector. Contrary to idle speculation, I didn't and do not get around nearly that much." He couldn't resist making Emmy Vector blush. And if you think that is shocking, you should hear some of the other rumors about me, or see what I can do with Polyjuice. "But yes," he then nodded, "I had to disabuse them of all the wild rumors going about. It seems as if the Gryffindors had us practically married off."  
  
Vector grew furious. What does he mean, not all of them are his bastards? "Well, at any rate, informing them of the terms of the bet disqualifies everything you've said and done after that date! And since it was less than a month, it means that I win! Prepare to have your hair washed, Snape!"  
  
"You are not weaseling out of this bet that easily, Emmy Vector!" Snape hissed as he grabbed her shoulders.  
  
"Ah -- Let me go, Severus Snape!" Emmy cried out.  
  
"Not until you listen to me, you fool woman!" Snape said through gritted teeth, still holding her by the shoulders. "You are not getting out of this that easily." He backed her up against the dungeon corridor wall. "I was merely letting them know the truth, the truth, do you hear me, woman? Not rumor, not half-truth, not lies, but the actual truth about what the terms of the bet were." Emmy was almost totally silent except for her heavy, wheezing breaths. "I had to reassure them that I was not mad, dying or an imposter, Emmy. None of them would come near to me to ask what was going on!"  
  
"Well," Emmy wheezed softly, "you are rather intimidating, you know."  
  
"Mmm. Yes, I suppose I still have that, IF I win the bet with you, fool woman!" He gripped her shoulders more tightly.  
  
"Ouch! Severus, you're hurting me!" Emmy cried out.  
  
"Good," Snape replied, although he eased up on the pressure. "Foolish woman, do you realize who and what you are dealing with? Do you have any idea just how much danger I carry with me, you mewling little innocent?"  
  
"I am not so innocent as all that, Severus," Emmy replied.  
  
"Oh, Emmy." Snape shook his head. "Emmy, Emmy, Emmy, no matter whatever you have done or seen, you are a babe in arms compared to me."  
  
"Try me, Severus," Emmy whispered. She tilted up her head, closed her eyes and opened her mouth.  
  
Snape could not have resisted that appeal even if he was under Imperius. He dragged his hands to her back, pulled her up to his mouth, and kissed her as if she were a fountain in a desert. He would show her that he was not a tame pet for her to play games with. He would frighten her away, force her to call this stupid bet off, and be free of this irritating, clever little woman with her shining brown eyes and hair, her graceful step, her lovely figure which he could feel pressing against his body. And her soft, sweet mouth kissing him back.  
  
She was kissing him back. Him, Severus Snape, the ugly, gawky, greasy-haired, ex-Death Eater Potions Master. He nearly dropped her in shock. She wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him even harder. The scream of his own conscience forced him to break it off. How could you even touch such a sweet little innocent? he thought to himself. "Where did you learn how to kiss like that?" he croaked out.  
  
Emmy smiled softly. "My late husband," she replied. Then something washed over her like a wave of cold water, killing the soft warmth in her eyes. She shoved Snape. He let go of her, let her pass. Yes, now she has remembered who I am and is disgusted by me, he thought.  
  
She ran down the corridor to a corner, and then shouted back at him, "And I'm going to ask Dumbledore about the terms of the bet, Severus!" before she turned the corner and was gone.  
  
Snape looked around the hallway. The woman had left graphs everywhere. He picked them all up, smoothed them out, and gently put them back into the folders. For some strange reason, Snape could feel himself smiling as he headed back toward his classroom. She was still calling him Severus, and she had kissed him back. 


	10. Reactions

Snape took That Woman's graphs back to his quarters with him. He wanted to see just what she was carrying around. He had taken Arithmancy many years ago, when there was more Kabala and less statistical analysis. He spread the graphs out on the table, slowly and deliberately.  
  
He could not make head or tail of what she had graphed out. It gave him quite the headache. Apparently, Arithmancy could be used as a method of torture. He had never looked at it in quite that light before. Ah, well, it would give him an excuse to lure her back down here when she realized that her graphs were missing.  
  
Her remark kept running through his head all day, even as he took a shower that evening. My late husband taught me how to kiss.my late husband, my late husband..  
  
"I didn't even know she was married," he muttered to himself. "She was Emmy Vector when she was here. I wonder if she married a cousin, or if she doesn't use her married name professionally."  
  
Then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. She. Had. Been. Married. She was not the little innocent that she had been when he was a seventh-year and she was a first-year. What was he like, Emmy? Was he good to you? Which House was he in? Could he keep up with your cleverness? What else did he teach you besides how to kiss? He turned the shower down to a stinging cold. He did not need to have any more of those thoughts about That Woman. His dreams were torment enough.  
  
And if you had taken a different path, Severus, you could have been the one who married her first. You could have been the one to teach her how to kiss. He shivered. The water was far too damned cold. He turned the shower back up until he was comfortably warm again.  
  
Late husband. Late husband. She wouldn't say late if she were still married. So she's a widow. He imagined her crying at the funeral, imagined himself there watching her cry. Would you have wanted consolation from me, Emmy? Would you have accepted it? He imagined himself kissing her again, kissing the tears away, loosing her long brown hair and stroking it. Oh Merlin! Enough! He turned off the water, got out of the shower, and started to dry himself off.  
  
She'll never accept you, Snape, a voice in his own mind hissed out. She'll never let you put your hands on her, you filthy criminal.  
  
"That's what you said before," he muttered to himself. "And she did kiss me of her own free will."  
  
Sooner or later, she will leave you, Snape. She will run screaming away from you, you slimy bastard. You are unworthy.  
  
"Shut up!" he said to himself. Wonderful. I am now talking out loud to myself. How much longer until That Woman drives me utterly insane, if she hasn't already? He pulled a bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion out of his medicine cabinet. This looks to be the only way I'll get any sleep tonight, he thought.  
  
Emmy Vector had a sleepless night in her lonely bed. He finally kissed me, she thought to herself in the small hours of the morning. And it was a real kiss, a proper kiss, a damned fantastic kiss! Where did he ever learn how to kiss like that? Who was the lucky woman who taught him? Some Death Eater slut who was no better than she should have been? Or some man? Or a non-human? Some veela or rusalka or banshee?  
  
She remembered the rumors that had gone around school about Severus Snape. Because she was a very quiet little girl who was easy to overlook, she had often heard conversations among the Ravenclaw Quidditch team that probably should have been conducted in the locker room and not before her innocent ears. She hadn't understood what all of it meant at the time, but her Uncle Jimmy Finnegan was a most surprising source of information. His view was that innocence and ignorance were not the same thing, and that sometimes the best preserver of innocence was knowledge.  
  
Of course, the rumors may not have been true. A lie travels around the world before the truth can even get its boots on. A reputation is a hard thing to earn, and an easy one to lose.  
  
And yet she still tossed and turned. Where there's smoke, there's fire.  
  
So Emmy Vector got up the next morning in a foul mood, due to jealousy and lack of sleep. And then after spending a good hour looking for her charts, including a quick owl to Dumbledore, she remembered that the last time she could remember having them was down in the dungeons.  
  
Wonderful, she thought. If I'm lucky, either Bulstrode or Snape found them and have found out that I monitor as much activity as possible at this school with statistics. And if I am not lucky, Malfoy or one of the other Junior Death Eaters found them and owled them off to Daddy or Mummy. Either way, too many people will know that I can and do keep these kinds of tabs on them.  
  
She prepared herself to head down to the dungeons to ask That Man if he had seen her graphs. It was six a.m., after all, and chances were that he would be up by now. 


	11. Document Recovery

Chapter 11  
  
"Designo me Severus Snape," she murmured to her wand as she stood out in the corridor. Why couldn't those Slytherins have proper entrances to their rooms like normal persons? Of course, they're Slytherins. She followed her wand and wound up staring at a blank stone wall in the dungeons. She knocked on it. No answer. She knocked harder. "Severus! I need to talk to you. " No answer. She pounded with her fist and forearm. "Severus, open the bloody door. I know you're in there. Severus!"  
  
Some of the stones in the wall slid to the left and the right. Severus Snape stood in the doorway, his I'm-Going-To-Squash-You scowl on his face. "Good morning, Severus," Emmy said to him.  
  
"You look like hell," he rasped.  
  
"Well, that's a fine greeting. Top of the morning to you too." she replied sarcastically.  
  
"What do you want?" he snarled.  
  
"I left my graphs down here yesterday, and I was wondering if you'd seen them," she replied.  
  
"Right here. Come on in," he said. He stood aside from the doorway only enough to let her pass. She had to brush against him to enter. She shivered, remembering how well he had kissed her yesterday. She wanted to kiss him again, And again and again.  
  
Snape saw her shiver, and thought that it was out of fear. Maybe it was nothing but fear that made her kiss me back yesterday, he thought. I should have known it was too good to be true.  
  
"Heh. They're all out of order." Emmy was relieved. If Snape couldn't make head or tail out of these, it meant that her Confundus Charm was still working. As she picked up and sorted the graphs, the charm stopped working, and the true nature of the graphs was revealed.  
  
Snape watched her behind her back. Her hair was pinned up today, rolled up on the back of her head. His fingers itched to take it down. At least she was wearing yellow robes today. Wait a minute. It looks like the graphs are changing as she's touching them. He stepped behind her to watch. He could feel the heat from her body, he was that close.  
  
Emmy could feel the heat from his body as well. It was all she could do to stop herself from dropping her graphs and turning around and kissing him again. And falling backward on the table during the kiss - No. She could not. Could Not. No snogging or shagging the double agent on the table, Emmy, she silently told herself.  
  
"I see that you have some sort of Confundus charm on the graphs," Snape rasped. Yes, keep talking about innocuous things, and quit thinking about spreading her out on the table like you did her graphs, he thought.  
  
"Mmm? Oh, yes, I do. It wouldn't do to let the students know that I was keeping track of their House points by time, after all."  
  
"So that was how you knew something was going on," Snape said. "I see that Arithmancy is a means of torturing oneself to get information."  
  
"And you would know all about torture, wouldn't you?" Emmy shot back. Snape recoiled as if she had physically struck him. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."  
  
They stared at each other in silence. Then Snape cleared his throat and asked, "So what else do you use your Arithmancy for? "  
  
"Well," Emmy carefully replied, "I keep track of the students' grades on homework, quizzes, exams and the like, as I'm sure that you do." Snape nodded in reply. "And I also like to keep track of their grades from year to year. See if they're improving, or if they're starting to have trouble with the material. That can be a signal that there's something other than schoolwork on their minds." She cleared her throat, and continued on. "I found a very interesting result the other day in Millicent Bulstrode's grades. It seems that she thought she had to practice cheating, so she wound up performing far below her potential for the first two years."  
  
"Indeed. And just what is her potential?" Snape knew from Bulstrode's delighted babbling to him, but he wanted confirmation from Emmy herself.  
  
"She's probably the best Arithmancer to come through this school in fifty years," Emmy replied. As good as or even better than my father, she silently thought. But I can't talk about Da, because that leads into what Da did when he was a young man. And no one is supposed to know about him at Bletchley Park.  
  
"Indeed? Better than you, even? I had known she was bright, but I didn't know she was a genius."  
  
"Then why the bloody hell did you tolerate her cheating during first year? Why don't you encourage her to do any better?"  
  
"And what do you think would happen to her if she showed her intelligence?" Emmy opened her mouth, but Snape continued on. "What do you think her family is like? What do you think her mother and father will say? Do you think they will be proud of her talents? Do you think that they will reward her? Or will they just realize that they don't have a minion, and put her on Voldemort's A-list for recruiting? Don't you realize that we are in a war, you idiot woman?"  
  
Emmy closed her mouth, and then answered him. "I see. So she's been playing dumb for the last four years in order to survive. And here I thought that if I encouraged her ambition, it would turn her from Voldemort." She sighed.  
  
"Emmy, please don't be discouraged," Snape said. He took a deep breath. "Thank you for being concerned over a Slytherin student."  
  
Emmy bit her lip. "Don't thank me, Severus," she replied, shaking her head. "I didn't do it out of the goodness of my heart. " Her mouth turned down and her lips clenched together. She looked as if she were trying not to cry. She looked up at him. "I was checking her grades to see if I could find any evidence that you were ignoring cheating, so I could win our bet. "  
  
Snape started laughing. Emmy smacked him on the shoulder. "You horrible man! What could possibly be funny about this?"  
  
Snape continued laughing. "I don't ignore cheating. I pay very careful attention to it. And I should have known better than to think that a Ravenclaw would actually be concerned for a Slytherin."  
  
"Apparently being concerned about Slytherins is more complicated and more of a challenge than I had previously realized. But forgive me, Severus, I do not find it amusing," Emmy replied sharply. "I find it saddening that I fell into the same anti-Slytherin trap that the rest of the school seems to be mired in."  
  
"So you think that the Slytherins are actually capable of redemption?"he asked, trying to keep his tone light.  
  
"All men are capable of being redeemed, Severus," she replied. "And women, too, of course." She paused. "Perhaps we should meet and discuss how our students are doing more often."  
  
"Indeed. Perhaps we should."  
  
They stared at each other. Snape's clock rang out seven a.m.  
  
"Time for breakfast," Emmy said, and fled. 


	12. Math, Religion and Tonsil Hockey

Scene 12 - Arithmancy class with the Slytherins  
  
Later on that same day, Emmy looked out at her fifth-year Slytherin- Gryffindor Arithmancy class. She had already met privately with Bulstrode before class to explain to the girl that she could keep up her previous strategy, but Bulstrode had reassured her that everything would be all right. "I'll just tell them that I found some better sources to get information from, Professor Vector," Bulstrode had said. Emmy was still worried, but it seemed as though Voldemort's lackeys did not pay attention to mere trends. That was a Muggle behavior far beneath them. And at any rate, when Riddle was a young man, Bletchley Park was a deep secret. No one ever paid attention to mathematicians back then.  
  
"All right, class. Today we're going to begin talking about Muggle attempts to mathematically predict behavior. Now, what is a common error Muggle scientists consistently make in modeling behavior, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Draco replied, "They consistently forget to add free will into the analysis."  
  
"Correct, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Vector replied. "And why is this an error?"  
  
Draco rattled off the answer, "Because human behavior can be described by three variables; genetics, environment, and free will."  
  
"Correct, five points." she replied with a nod. She thought, Malfoy, if you would only think about what I'm trying to teach you, instead of just parroting answers out! "And how do the Muggle scientists model human behavior?"  
  
Draco smirked. "They only consider two variables, the interaction of genetics and environment."  
  
Professor Vector nodded. "Correct, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin. Now, class, can free will be considered as a function of genetics and environment?"  
  
Draco got a puzzled look on his face. "Yes," he replied.  
  
Bulstrode put up her hand. When Vector acknowledged her, she said, "No, not if it is to be properly considered as free will."  
  
Professor Vector nodded. "Correct, Miss Bulstrode. Ten points to Slytherin."  
  
She then proceeded to start assigning problems. The trick was that a mere two-variable analysis would give them answers that were complete rubbish, or no answers at all, but a three-variable analysis would give them meaningful results. She gave a thin smile at the thought of Draco Malfoy making mistakes due to his own prejudices. However, by the time she was finished with class, she had the beginnings of a pounding headache.  
  
Professor Vector looked at her watch. She had a hour or two until she had to leave for the University. True, it was lunchtime, but she had no appetite. Lack of sleep plus high levels of stress equaled a really rotten headache. And if she went to her rooms, she'd probably be pestered by students. She decided that she would go to the chapel instead, and meditate.  
  
The Catholic chapel in Hogwarts could not be found very easily. It could only be discovered by those who were Catholic or who sought the place with good intent. This was as the result of a Confundus-type charm placed on the chapel after religious controversy between the pagans and atheists who did not want a chapel at Hogwarts at all, and the Catholics who insisted that the chapel and its occupants be present and free from harm. Binns never taught about the religious wars between Pagan and Christian wizards, or Catholic and Protestant ones, or Believer versus Atheist, et cetera, because the history showed how utterly shameful the prejudices of previous generations were. The Americans took a similar tack with teaching the history of their immigration laws, at least according to her brother-in-law the INS agent.  
  
The Hufflepuff Friar had been the victim of an attack from a pagan in the thirteenth century, and refused to leave his post as Catholic chaplain until he was replaced. Some of the nuns who were ghosts were victims of a joint Protestant and atheist attack wishing to rid the school of their "superstitious" presence. The nuns had also refused to leave until they had either an apology or successors.  
  
Emmy knew that she could pray in her classroom or in her quarters just as easily as she could pray in the chapel, but sometimes she needed that hushed quiet, the sight of all the paintings, stained glass and statues, and the smell of flat incense to put her back into contact with the Holy. Or at least a calmer state of mind. And no one else would be there. It would be quiet.  
  
Snape noticed that Vector wasn't in the Great Hall for lunch. Bloody fantastic. Now I've managed to scare That Woman off. He repeated to himself, I am not disappointed, Not at all, It merely shows what she truly thinks of me.  
  
"I wonder where Professor Vector is," McGonagall said.  
  
"Perhaps she's in the chapel, Minerva," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"We have a chapel here?" Snape asked. The other teachers turned to look at him. "Of course, I knew about our pagan temple, but I had no idea that we had a chapel."  
  
"We have two chapels in addition to the temple, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "A Catholic and a Protestant one."  
  
"I see. How is it that I never knew of them?" Snape asked.  
  
"They can only be found by those who truly believe or who seek with good intent. Much like the pagan temple."  
  
"Yes, there are some very interesting Concealment Charms on all three holy places," Flitwick said.  
  
"I see," Snape said. Perhaps I will go exploring after lunch, he thought, as Flitwick babbled on. He had a free period, after all. And it would be a good idea to know every single room in the castle. He set himself to quickly finishing his meal.  
  
"Designo me Emmy Vector," he said when he was finally alone in the corridors. Yes, wand, point me to her.  
  
He heard her first, rather than seeing her. She was chanting very rapidly, "Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen." Over and over again, he heard the chant. Then she changed the words. "Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen. Domine Iesu, dimitte nobis debita nostra, salva nos ab igne inferiori, perduc id caelum omnes animas, praesertim eas, quae misericordiae tuae maxime indigent. Amen."*   
  
What exactly was That Woman doing? What spell was it? He could not identify it. Her voice was coming from behind a door that he had never seen before in this particular corridor. He opened it. Emmy Vector had her back to him and was kneeling on the floor in front of the altar. Snape heard her again. "Salve Regina, mater misericordiae, vita dulcedo et spes nostra salve. Ad te clamamus,exsules filii Hevae. Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes in hac lacrimarum valle. Eia ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte. Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui, nobis, post hoc exsilium, ostende. O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria. Amen. Ora pro nobis, sancta Dei Genitrix. Ut digni efficiamur promissionibus Christi. In nomine Patri et Filii et Spiritui Sancti. Amen."** Something rattled in her hands.   
  
"Emmy, what are you doing?" Snape asked. She gasped and dropped whatever it was that was rattling, then attempted to get up and turn around at the same time. She fell over instead. He ran into the chapel. "What are you doing here, Snape? How did you find me?" She rubbed at her knees. Spending the better part of an hour kneeling on a cold stone floor was not good for them.  
  
Snape held up his wand. "Good old Designo me. And I was," he paused, "concerned when you missed lunch today." He extended a hand toward her. She took it and he pulled her to a standing position. He let his hand linger on hers for a moment, and then dropped it.  
  
Emmy put her hands to her forehead. "I had a horrible headache, and I find that I can't eat when I get them. What helps is getting peace and quiet."  
  
"Quiet? I could hear you all the way down the corridor."  
  
"Ah, but that was my own noise, after all," she replied.  
  
"And what were you saying? I caught a few of the words."  
  
"Ah. Medieval Catholic meditation practice."  
  
"Meditation? At that volume?"  
  
Emmy gave an exasperated sigh, and muttered very softly, "Pagans." She continued, louder, "I was saying the rosary, Severus."  
  
"Ah. That explains it. I have seen it said, but never heard the words."  
  
Emmy's head snapped up. "You've seen the rosary said? When?"  
  
"I lived in Italy for some time," Snape replied.  
  
"And I presume you weren't going into the churches much."  
  
"More than you would think. But I still never heard anything like you were doing just now."  
  
"My Latin accent isn't that good, and I know it, Severus."  
  
"No, not that. You sounded," he struggled for the word, "desperate, somehow."  
  
Emmy grimaced. "I came here after I'd finished with my fifth-year Slytherin-Gryffindor class. Worrying about Millie Bulstrode and dealing with Draco Malfoy is enough to give anyone a headache."  
  
"Humph. Dealing with Granger is enough to give anyone a headache."  
  
Emmy snorted. "Really, Severus."  
  
"Oh, come on, woman. Don't you find her annoying?"  
  
"You forget, my brother is Michael Vector. I have a different definition for annoying than most people do."  
  
"Yes, he always was a perfect Gryffindork, in spite of his House, wasn't he?"  
  
"Was? Is is more like it."  
  
Snape chuckled. "I'll have to take your word for it. I haven't seen him in some years now."  
  
"Oh, I see him from time to time, over the holidays generally. But he did say that he was going to stop in and see me here before Christmas this year."  
  
Snape drew in his breath. "Do you know exactly when?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light and casual. If Michael Vector sees me and realizes that I'm interested in his sister, he won't let me out of his slip again. He'll find some way to put me into Azkaban this time.  
  
Emmy frowned. "I can't exactly remember. I hope that it's not Halloween."  
  
"So do I," Snape agreed. They both fell silent.  
  
Emmy looked down first. She bent over and picked up her rosary. She straightened up. "Thank you very much for being concerned about me, Severus."  
  
"You're welcome," he replied. "Do you want a potion for your headache?"  
  
Emmy shook her head. "Thank you, Severus, but no. I'm feeling better now, and I find that most headache potions make my head as foggy as the headache itself does. But it's kind of you to offer."  
  
"I see. Perhaps I can find something that works better for you. Would you be willing to try it?"  
  
"Yes," Emmy replied, looking back up at him. "After all, I can't always take the time to go run to the chapel and say fifteen decades of the rosary while waiting for my head to feel better."  
  
"Yes, I am amazed to find Catholics here at Hogwarts. I thought that you burned witches and wizards," he drawled.  
  
Emmy retorted, "We gave that up when the Protestants started executing witches, wizards and Catholics." She snorted at the look on Snape's face. "I'm just joking, Severus. There were always those who managed to reconcile their faith with their abilities, even before the Reformation."  
  
"Mental gymnastics," Snape muttered.  
  
"No worse than any other religion," Emmy replied. "And it keeps the brain active. Doubt can be just a means of showing that one has faith, after all."  
  
Snape looked at her. "Whatever do you mean by that?"  
  
"If you're utterly sure that you have the right answers, and you never, ever entertain the thought that you might be wrong, that's blindness."  
  
"But then how does one ever know the right answer?"  
  
Emmy smiled. "That's the faith. To be uncertain but decide to believe anyway, and wager your soul on it." She looked at her watch, and coughed to clear her throat. Her hand came up to her neck and rubbed it. "Severus, I have to run now. I'll stop by later in the week to see about that headache potion." She turned and walked toward the door.  
  
"Do you have a sore throat?" he asked her.  
  
She stopped at the door, turned, and nodded. "Yes, and more talking to do this afternoon."  
  
He came and met her at the open door, and then started to search for something. "Ah, here. Try this." He took a little vial with a medicine dropper in it out of his robes. "Two drops and you should be set to announce an entire Quidditch match. Here, stick out your tongue." Emmy gave him a surprised look. "I know the proper dosage, woman, and it's not exactly as if you can see to administer it."  
  
"True. Very well." Emmy stuck out her tongue and closed her eyes.  
  
Snape stepped close to her. She felt Snape's hand cup her cheek and jaw, and cold splashes on her tongue. "One, two, done." Emmy pulled her tongue back into her open mouth. Snape slowly removed his hand from her face. She opened her eyes, and took a deep breath. "You need to swallow," he rasped. She nodded, and followed his instructions. She backed out of the chapel into the corridor. He followed her. She kept on staring at him staring at her.  
  
"I apologize for the incident yesterday in the dungeons," he finally said. "I realize that you probably find me distasteful. I assure you that it will not happen again."  
  
"Distasteful?" Emmy said. "Distasteful?" He nodded.  
  
She slowly smiled. "Severus, I'll show you just how distasteful I find you," she said, and put her arms around his neck. She attempted to drag his head down. He bent his head towards her, and fastened onto her mouth. So much for good intentions. She asked for it. She actually asked for it! She pulled herself up towards him, kissing him harder and harder. He pulled her closer to him, as tightly as he could. She slid her tongue around his lips and felt him moan. Their tongues were touching, they were both shaking, and all of a sudden, a bucket of ice-cold water hit them, and they heard Peeves cackling. "Naughty Professors playing tonsil hockey!"  
  
Snape let go of Vector, and she screamed out, "God damn you to the ninth circle of hell, Peeves! I'm friggin' well going to set the exorcists on you, you worthless nine-fingered shite hawk!"  
  
Peeves retorted, "Oooh, do the greasy git's tonsils taste good then? Go get a room!"  
  
Snape shouted, "Peeves! Enough." He stepped between Emmy and Peeves, and rolled up his left sleeve. "Peeves, who taught the Bloody Baron everything he knows?" he said in a soft, silky voice.  
  
Emmy asked, "Snape, you're not going to do anything that would." she hesitated, trying to work it out. ".upset Dumbledore, would you?  
  
Snape shook his head briefly, but did not turn around. He snarled softly. "Not a single word to anyone, you pestiferous spirit, or I'll deal with you first, and then turn what's left of you over to Professor Vector's exorcists. Do you understand me?"  
  
Peeves saw the Dark Mark on Snape's arm. The poltergeist's teeth chattered. " I won't tell anybody!" he said, in a frightened voice, and vanished. Snape quickly rolled his sleeve back down and turned around.  
  
Emmy started to applaud him. "Bravo, Severus, bravo!"  
  
Snape smirked. "Well, I guess I can't complain that you never let me have any fun," he said.  
  
Emmy took a look at him. He was happy, and his wet robes were absolutely clinging to his body. She took in one brief moment to enjoy the sight. Then she thought about what he must be seeing.  
  
"Oh, we're both soaking wet, thanks to that blasted poltergeist," Emmy said. She aimed her wand at his wet clothes. "Dehydratio," she said. She repeated it for herself. She looked at her watch. "I'm running late. Time to go." She went down the corridor in one direction. Snape stood and watched her go until she was out of sight, and then went in the other direction, back to his dungeons.  
  
End of Chapter 12  
  
*translation: "Hail, Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shalt be, world without end. Amen. Lord Jesus, forgive us our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy."  
  
** translation: "Hail, Holy Queen, mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To thee we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy towards us, and after this our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus. O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary. Amen. Pray for us, O holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." 


	13. Parent Teacher Conference

Chapter 13  
  
When Emmy Vector got back to Hogwarts early on Friday morning, she checked her post box at her quarters. She usually didn't get that much post here at the school. However, this day she had a note from Lucius Malfoy. He "requested and required a conference with her." She checked the date. Unfortunately, he planned on meeting with her that afternoon.  
  
"Requests and requires" a bloody parent-teacher conference. Maybe he's not as much of an utter pillock as that makes him sound, but what are the odds? Just bloody wonderful, Emmy thought. What a way to start the weekend. At least from there, it can only go up. And Snape had managed to keep his nose clean for another day. She was probably going to lose the bet.  
  
She frowned as she looked at her wardrobe. It would have to be the navy blue robes that day, with a cream-colored shirtwaist showing underneath. That would convey the proper air of authority. It was a pity that her diplomas were hanging on the wall at her office at the University. Although Lucius Malfoy probably would not be impressed by a first in maths at Oxford, and then a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. Ah well, at least her certificate for excellence in Arithmancy was here.  
  
She composed a quick reply to Malfoy, stating that she would be in her office at 11 a.m., but unfortunately unavailable all that afternoon, and owled it off. She wanted this meeting to take place while there were still teachers and students moving around the castle. If the father was as unpleasant as the son, she wanted witnesses within earshot. Then she composed notes to the Heads of Houses stating that she was canceling her eleven-o'-clock class.  
  
Malfoy Senior showed up late, of course. It was quite all right, because it gave her time to drop the silencing charms that she had up to prevent eavesdropping.  
  
"My dear Miss Professor Vector," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. Courtesy and condescencion all in one. How economical. Emmy controlled her urge to wipe her hand on her robes. "I'm so glad that I could meet with you."  
  
Emmy sat down at her desk. Lucius remained standing at first, and Emmy had to indicate the chair with a wave of her hand. He shook his head at her. "This won't take that long, Miss Vector. I just have a few things to explain to you."  
  
Emmy stood up then, and said in a very dry tone, "I see. Far be it from me to keep you waiting, sir. What did you request this meeting for?" She could not call him Malfoy without thinking of his son, but she could call him sir. She had learned from dealing with policemen in Chicago and at Notre Dame football games that the word sir could have an infinite number of meanings. Here, it was outwardly respectful, but inwardly, she was thinking that he was a complete and utter waste of protoplasm.  
  
Lucius gave her a thin smile. "I've been receiving the most interesting reports from my son Draco about this class. I'm a trifle," he paused for a long while, "concerned about what you are teaching him."  
  
Emmy tilted her head. "Arithmancy?" she prompted him, as though she were dealing with a first-year.  
  
Lucius shook his head. "That's what you're paid to do. My concern is that you're teaching my son something else besides Arithmancy."  
  
"And what exactly would that be, sir?" Emmy asked. Keep on playing the fish until you get enough rope to hang him with, girl, she thought.  
  
"Well. To spell it out, my concern is that you are overstepping your role and indoctrinating him in Muggle religion."  
  
"How? " Emmy asked in a puzzled tone. "I point out the mistakes that Muggles make in analysis fairly frequently. And besides, it's not only Muggles who have religion, sir."  
  
Lucius smiled. "Well, you are part Muggle yourself, so of course you wouldn't be expected to know what goes on in the truly pure-blooded families."  
  
"Such as the Macmillans, for instance?" Emmy murmured. "And in any case, I was under the impression that a good amount of the pure-blooded families practiced Paganism, sir. Which is also a religion."  
  
"Ah, yes, indeed. We practice Paganism, Miss Vector, and not the papist nonsense that you teach."  
  
Emmy's eyes burned. "What did you just say about my religion, sir?" Her hand gripped her wand tightly. Oh, I would love to hit this bastard with a really nasty hex. Touch me just once, Malfoy, and you'll wake up in the middle of next week.  
  
Malfoy gave her a thin smile. "Oh, come now, my dear Miss Vector. The only reason I allow Draco to study Arithmancy is that it's slightly less nonsense than that fraud Trelawney's Divination."  
  
She grew irritated at Malfoy's dropping her title of Professor. "On the contrary, sir," she said in a very clipped tone. "I find Arithmancy quite fascinating and useful, especially when combined with the mathematics that I learned at Oxford and the University of Chicago, sir."  
  
"Yes, and we all know that the only way Muggle women get their advanced degrees is by sleeping with their professors," Lucius Malfoy replied.  
  
"Oh, I wish that you had told me that before I started, sir. I had to write theses and journal articles and defend a dissertation to get my degrees."  
  
"You insolent Mudblood," Malfoy hissed.  
  
Emmy brought up her wand. "The last person who called me that was a Death Eater who killed my husband," she retorted.  
  
"Oh, really?" Malfoy asked, looking pleased.  
  
"Yes, and I killed him," Emmy replied.  
  
"How?" he asked skeptically. "Are you confessing to using the Killing Curses?"  
  
Emmy grinned, and a weird light shone in her eyes. The old rhyme, The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad/ For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad, sang out in her head. She spat out, "No. I stabbed him to death, and I was in a hurry, so it took him a very long time to die. My husband the med student taught me to go for the carotid artery, lights out in 2.5 seconds, so that was what I did to the second one. The third one got my knife away from me, so I had to crush his larynx with my bare hands, and he choked to death. Life in Chicago taught me a few things about self-defense."  
  
Lucius looked green. "That's barbaric."  
  
"Oh, and murdering innocent people isn't?" Emmy asked.  
  
Malfoy took a step back. "You'll regret this," he said. He turned, stalked out of her office, and slammed the door behind him.  
  
"Oh, no," Emmy whispered. "I'm glad I met you. Now I realize your son is doing amazingly well under the circumstances." 


	14. October Staff Meeting

Chapter 14 - October Staff Meeting  
  
It was time for the monthly staff meeting, and Emmy Vector was in an absolutely foul mood. According to her records, Snape had managed to act fairly towards all the students for one month. She had only one argument left to convince the faculty that she was the true winner.  
  
She marched into the staff common room with her graphs and folders, and slammed then down onto the table as hard as she could. All of the conversations stopped. Everyone turned around to look at her.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," Emmy began, "I know that you are all aware of the wager that Severus and I made in August. He is under the impression that he has won. I submit to you that he has not."  
  
"What sort of example would welshing on the bet set for the students, Emmy?" Quintus Tolliver, the ancient Muggle Studies Professor, asked.  
  
She thought, You old goat, I know you'd rather watch the dance than observe hygiene. I'm not welshing, I want justice here. After I win, I wouldn't mind dancing for Severus privately. "Oh, I don't plan to welsh on it. I argue that Severus's informing the student body of the terms of the bet and encouraging his House to act in a manner that would guarantee him the win skewed the conditions so badly that it was impossible to get a fair test, and thus, due to his actions, I in fact win."  
  
"What are you going on about, woman?" Severus asked her.  
  
Emmy sounded like a judge passing sentence. "You had to cheat in order to win. You had to drag your students into it. You couldn't win the bet fair and square,"  
  
"I told you why I told the students what was going on," Severus said through clenched teeth. "Have you forgotten that so soon, Emmy?"  
  
She swallowed. "No, " she quietly replied. She looked him in the eyes. "But there's a principle at stake."  
  
"I see," he said, rolling his eyes. "Then let the other members of the faculty judge whether the terms of the bet have been met."  
  
"Very well. I agree." She turned toward the other professors. "All right, who bet on me, and who bet on Severus?" Emmy asked.  
  
Consternation and babbling broke out. "Emmy!" Severus said, thinking Just bloody wonderful. Now I get to find out whom my enemies really are. Not that I didn't know, but still - He stopped short of the thought that there was a principle at stake.  
  
"Snape, we have to know. I want this to be as fair as possible," she said. She thought, Look what I got into the last time I worried about fairness. But never mind.  
  
They sorted it out. Flitwick, McGonagall, Grubbly-Plank, Trelawney, and Pomfrey for Vector, and Dumbledore, Sinistra, Hootch, Arabella Figg the Defense Professor, and Halekkala, the Ancient Runes Professor, for Snape. Hagrid had been keeping the book for everyone else. Emmy and Severus agreed that he had to be one of the judges. The two Hufflepuffs, Sprout and Tolliver, had also stayed out of it, as had Binns.  
  
Emmy began her argument. "I submit to you, ladies and gentlemen, that because Severus informed his House of the terms of the bet, they changed their behavior. He knew they would change their behavior in order to get Slytherin to win, and therefore he skewed the conditions of the bet. This was not what I bargained for when we placed the bet; therefore there was no true meeting of the minds, and I cannot be held to the terms of the wager."  
  
Severus cleared his throat. "The terms of the wager never said one word about whether the students would know. It was simply immaterial, and not germane to the bet. I have satisfied its terms by maintaining perfect fairness in my dealings, as Professor Vector would see it, with the students for one month, so therefore Professor Vector should be held to the terms she agreed to."  
  
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, and brought his fingertips together. "Emmy, didn't you inform students in your House about the terms of the wager?"  
  
"Yes, I did," she muttered. "After they found out about it from Gryffindor."  
  
"And what exactly did you tell them about it?"  
  
"I told them that Professor Snape and I had made a bet that he could not be fair to all the students for one month, and that when he lost, I'd wash his hair for him in the Great Hall on Halloween, but that if he did win, that I'd do a belly dance in the Great Hall on Halloween. Ask Severus what he said to his lot, why don't you?"  
  
"What did you say to Slytherin House, Severus?"  
  
"I told my House that I was disappointed that they had not discovered the existence and nature of the bet earlier, and I informed them what the terms of the bet were."  
  
"So by that standard, all the students knew and therefore both of you skewed the playing field. One cancels the other out."  
  
"Absolutely not, sir!" Emmy shouted out. "Everyone knows that the Slytherins changed their behavior, and my graphs show nobody else did."  
  
"That's because the Ravenclaws are knowledgeable enough to get around your graphs," Snape hissed.  
  
"Are you accusing me?" Emmy asked him.  
  
"Are you admitting it?" Snape retorted.  
  
The teachers all started arguing among themselves. Finally, Dumbledore had to raise his own voice to call Binns, Hootch, Tolliver, and Hagrid to take a vote on the issue.  
  
"All those who hold that Severus invalidated the terms of the bet, answer aye," Dumbledore said. Binns answered "Aye."  
  
Snape glowered at Binns, and thought, Does he hate me, or did he just wake up?  
  
"All those who hold that Severus did not invalidate the terms of the bet, answer nay," Dumbledore said. "Nay," said three voices in unison.  
  
"The nays have it," Dumbledore announced. The other teachers started quietly conversing with each other.  
  
Snape turned toward Emmy. "I'm terribly sorry to inform you, dear Emmy, but I think that you've lost the wager," Snape purred, with a smug smirk on his face. "However, I've graciously decided that I don't want to see you publicly humiliated after all, so I'm releasing you from the terms."  
  
"What precisely are you going on about, Severus?" Vector snapped out.  
  
"I'm offering you an out, woman! You don't have to do the dance and publicly make a fool out of yourself!"  
  
Emmy Vector's jaw dropped, and worked for a moment. Then she recovered. "What makes you think that I am going to make a public fool out of myself, Severus?"  
  
"Well - I -"  
  
"Severus, I am bloody well going to bloody dance to the best of my bloody ability, and we'll see who's the bloody fool on bloody Halloween night!" Emmy's brown eyes were again bright with rage, and she almost looked for a moment as if she were about to hit him. Then she spun on her heel and marched off, her back ramrod straight, her hands clenching and unclenching as she stalked away from him. He could hear her muttering, "bloody dammed great bat - I'll show him - thinks I can't dance - stupid man" as she headed for the door of the staff common room. She slammed it behind her with a resounding crash.  
  
Snape thought to himself, Now I remember why I never try to be magnanimous. I try to do her a favor, she would have been off the hook, and all I would have done would be to hold it over her for the rest of our careers. What's unfair about that?  
  
End of Chapter 14 


	15. Tea and Searches

Chapter 15  
  
Snape regarded the gargoyle with a wary eye. "Tootsie Rolls," he muttered, wondering what they were. Some sort of Muggle candy, no doubt. The gargoyle slid away and revealed the staircase. Snape proceeded up it.  
  
"Ah, hello, Severus," the Headmaster said in greeting. "Would you like a Tootsie Roll?" He handed Snape a small object. Snape removed the white, brown and orange wrapper, and regarded the sticky brown sweet suspiciously. "It's perfectly safe, Severus, it's only a Muggle sweet after all, or I suppose I should say a candy, because it's from the United States," Dumbledore went on.  
  
"An American sweet? Where did you get it from, Headmaster?" Snape asked. He bit into it. Their chocolate is almost as bad as their beer, he thought. He placed the remaining part of the sweet back into the wrapper, and tossed it into the dustbin.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Emmy Vector got a package from an American colleague last week. It had all sorts of things we don't have here in Britain. She has promised to make me some 'chocolate chip cookies,' I believe she called them." He frowned and sighed.  
  
"What's the matter, Headmaster?" Snape asked. What has That Woman done now? he thought.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy had a meeting with Professor Vector last week, and it did not go well."  
  
"What happened?" Snape asked tensely.  
  
"He feels that she threatened him," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"She threatened him?" Snape asked in a disbelieving tone. "How? With what?"  
  
"I do not share confidences about my faculty without their permission, Severus," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Like their lycanthropy," Snape muttered.  
  
"Like their former allegiances," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"Touché," Snape said. He thought, You'll just tell me enough so that I go find out for myself. Playing me like that brat Potter and his sidekicks. He sipped his tea, and regrouped. "Why not simply use some sort of Memory Charm on Malfoy, and stop the trouble that way?"  
  
"He has already complained to the Board of Governors about Professor Vector," Dumbledore replied. "And I cannot go scattering episodes of amnesia about like Ophelia with her rose petals."  
  
Snape chuckled at the mental image this presented. "Seriously. Headmaster, what sort of danger could Emmy Vector, of all people, possibly pose to Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
"I believe that you will have to ask her that, Severus," Dumbledore said gently but firmly. "For now, the subject is closed."  
  
Snape resolved to stop by Professor Vector's quarters after tea, and shake some answers out of the woman if he could. But he was frustrated in his attempts. The Designo me charm did not work. Apparently, she was nowhere in the castle. He decided to go to the Ravenclaw rooms to see if her House knew where she was. He found the Ravenclaw common room easily enough, but Flitwick was in classes, and the students were not of much help, either. The second-years were all there, though.  
  
The Quirke girl eventually volunteered the information that "Professor Vector is never here on Tuesdays or Thursdays past eight a.m., sir, and not back until early morning on Wednesdays or Fridays, and only here one weekend a month, sir."  
  
"And where is she on the days that she's not here?" Snape asked.  
  
Quirke and some of the other second-years giggled, "We think that she's got a boyfriend, sir." Some of the second-year boys sniggered at this idea.  
  
"A boyfriend?" Snape spat. "Show some more respect for your professors. Thirty points from Ravenclaw." He thought for a moment. She must have some way for us to contact her in case of an emergency. "Where is the emergency contact for Professor Vector, children?" Quirke's eyes looked over to a soda bottle sitting on a shelf. Snape reached out and grabbed it, and was instantly transported to a strange room.  
  
He turned around. This was apparently a Muggle dwelling place of some sort. It was small, quiet, and dark, as though its owner were gone. He went over to a window, and pulled the curtains aside enough so that he could see out. He was in a city of some sort. Then he was nearly startled out of his wits by a loud ringing sound. It reoccurred four times, and then he heard Emmy Vector's voice saying, "Good day. You have reached the phone of M.E. Donovan." He raced to the room that he had heard her voice coming from, but there was no one there. Her voice continued, "I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but please leave your name and number, and I'll call you back. Thank you." He then heard a loud beep, and a light started to flash on a black box sitting on a table by a . telephone, that was the Muggle word.  
  
Donovan. Donovan. That must have been her husband's name. Snape tried to recall if there had been a Donovan in the years below him at Hogwarts.  
  
A key rattled in the front door, and it opened onto Snape's back. "Ooof," he said.  
  
"Petrificus Totalus!" he heard Emmy Vector's - Emmy Donovan's - voice say. He was frozen.  
  
"Snape, what the devil are you doing here?" she said to him., after she looked around the door, came in, and closed the door behind her.  
  
"I might ask the same of you, Mrs. Donovan," he snarled.  
  
"What's happened at Hogwarts that they sent you to get me?" Emmy asked. "A fire in the Ravenclaw common room? Finite Incantatem."  
  
"No," he replied. "Dumbledore told me to ask you about why Lucius Malfoy thinks that you threatened him."  
  
Emmy's face took on a far-too-angelic look, and she asked, "I threatened Lucius Malfoy? Dearie, dearie me. The man must have misinterpreted me. I merely told him that I didn't use the Killing Curses on the Death Eaters that killed my husband, and how I actually did kill them."  
  
"You killed a Death Eater?" Snape asked. "How?"  
  
"It was three Death Eaters, actually," Emmy replied, with a little grin on her face. "I stabbed one in the chest, one in the carotid artery, and crushed the third one's larynx."  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Really," he said. "And you told Lucius Malfoy this?"  
  
"Yes, I did," Emmy replied.  
  
"What were you thinking, woman?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"If you had pretended to be scared of him and groveled a bit, he'd have lost interest."  
  
"Oh really," she coldly replied. "Do go on, Severus."  
  
"Now he thinks you're a challenge. He likes strong women and attempts to dominate them."  
  
"I see. He's a bully and I should let him bully me and encourage him to keep on bullying me and other people as well. Thank you Severus, but no, I could not bring myself to do that."  
  
"What alternative do you have, woman?"  
  
"Take a look around you, Severus. This is a Muggle flat. We are out in the Muggle world. I have a second, Muggle, job."  
  
"You'd give up magic forever?"  
  
Emmy sighed. "I did it once before for love, I could certainly do it again for safety."  
  
Snape looked sharply at her. "You gave it up before? When? And how?"  
  
Emmy's mouth twisted. I'll do an info-dump so that you'll be bored and leave me alone, she thought. "When I left Hogwarts, I wanted nothing further to do with the wizarding world. My family knew some people who had connections at Oxford, and I read maths there. I met Brendon Donovan at Oxford. He was an American Muggle, a graduate of Notre Dame, and we got married before I finished at Oxford. I moved to the United States with him, he went to medical school, I went to graduate school in maths, and I got my Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. After Brendon was murdered, I came back to Britain, started teaching at a Muggle university, and then got a job at Hogwarts."  
  
"I see. Which university do you teach at, and where are we?"  
  
"None of your damn business. You have no need-to-know. Indeed, you have a need-to-not-know, or so Dumbledore tells me." She grabbed his wrist, and Apparated with him. They wound up at Hogsmeade, in the Three Broomsticks. She looked drained. Snape ordered her a hot chocolate, and then borrowed a broom from Madame Rosmerta to get back to the school. He kept on pelting her with questions all the way back, but she did not say anything further.  
  
End of chapter 15. 


	16. The Checkout Desk and the Computer

Chapter 16  
  
Vector noted Snape's selections as he stood at the library checkout desk. "The Wizard's Guide to Catholicism," "Muggle World Religions," the Douay- Rheims Bible, the Vulgate, and the 1917 Code of Canon Law - how did Hogwarts wind up with that, of all things?  
  
She looked at his selections. "Not bad for a first start, Severus," she whispered quietly. "I've got some other texts written from the Muggle perspective that you may find interesting."  
  
He turned and glared at her. I am not going to admit to That Woman that I find her religious beliefs interesting. Not at all.  
  
She glared back at him. "It'll do you some good to read something besides Potions for a change," she whispered. She waved her wand and said, "Accio Biblio Loyola et Augustinus et Brodrick, et Codex Lex Canonicus 1983." The Spiritual Exercises by St. Ignatius Loyola , The Confessions of St. Augustine, and The Origin of the Jesuits, by Brodrick, Brodrick and Tylenda, and the 1983 Code of Canon Law, appeared before her.  
  
"The Jesuits?" Snape asked her, with a sneer on his face.  
  
"They're the Slytherin House of the Roman Catholic Church," she retorted. "They have been accused of many things in their long and glorious career, but an overabundance of scruples has never been one of them."*  
  
He started to chuckle, and then to laugh in earnest. Everyone in the library looked up and turned their heads at that. Hermione shook her head in disbelief. Professor Snape laughing. Now she had seen everything.  
  
"And who, pray tell, are the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors of the Catholic Church?" Snape asked her, sneering.  
  
Vector frowned for a moment. "The Hufflepuffs would be the Franciscan Order, and the Ravenclaws would probably be the Dominicans. I'm not sure who the Gryffindors would be. Maybe the Guy Fawkes or Babington conspirators. Or perhaps the Holy Cross Order, who founded a school eventually renowned for its sport."  
  
Hermione drew in her breath at this. Professor Vector, how could you say such a thing? She thought. She shook her head. Love must be making the poor woman crazy.  
  
Vector turned her head, and smiled at Snape. "Thirty points to Slytherin if you get those finished by next week, Severus." Snape's face froze. "Or a kiss, whichever you prefer." Snape started to calculate how close Slytherin was to the House Cup. Maybe twenty points and a peck on the cheek?  
  
Granger said, "Professors can't award each other points."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Granger. What would I do without you?" he snarled.  
  
"Snog away the House Cup, that's what you'd do!" he heard a familiar, Slytherin voice say. He looked around quickly to see if he could find the culprit, but could not. I'll fix them later. He glared until everyone stopped looking as though they were about to giggle.  
  
"Forty points from Slytherin for disrespect to your Head of House, Montague," Vector calmly said.  
  
And then That Woman had the nerve to nod and smile at him, turn her back, and walk away from him with a definite sway in her step. Snape watched her and her sway intently as she went. She was so very graceful. And so damnably, stubbornly silent when she wanted to be. He started to make notes in his head about how to secretly slip her some Truth Potion at the next meal they shared. He would have to wait until she came back from her University job. Vector had given all the Ravenclaws strict orders that Professor Snape was not, under any circumstances whatsoever, to be allowed to use the emergency Portkey again. And he had tried Apparating to her apartment and found it impossible.  
  
Later on that evening, Emmy Vector Donovan was at her University office. She sat at her computer, frantically typing geographic coordinates into her modeling program. "God damn Cornelius Fudge to hell," she softly hissed. "Damn the sodding Ministry and the pig-ignorant American DOM. And God damn those stupid wallys at the Daily Prophet who won't give me so much as the time of day." How the frigging hell am I supposed to find the location of Voldemort's supporters and hideouts if I can't get accurate data about the location of their attacks? she thought.  
  
She looked at the stack of cutout newspaper articles sitting beside her on the desk. It was almost impossible to tell which deaths and disappearances were due to plain human, Muggle, wickedness and which were due to the Death Eaters. She had tried just about every type of model that she could, and her answers still made no sense. GIGO. Garbage in, garbage out. And people are being tortured and killed while I sit here in my back room, sort through these, and program. If only I knew what deaths were due to what, I would at least have a start.  
  
Mike tried to help her whenever he could. She was grateful for his reports on which deaths had been caused by the Death Eaters. However, Mike was not privy to every single investigation at the Ministry. And she doubted that all the reports Mike saw were entirely accurate. At least, when she had tried to work from his data alone, she hadn't gotten any better results. She glanced over at her bookshelf. Cryptography. Epidemiology. Statistics. Forensics. Computer programming, in at least three different languages. All these books, and still no answers in any of them.  
  
She was so tired of working on this on her own. She was tired of trying to single-handedly outdo all of Bletchley Park. She pushed herself away from the computer, got up, and started to pace. Her head was starting to hurt. She pulled out her rosary. "For the answer to this problem, O God," she murmured, closed her eyes, and began. "In nomine Patri et Filii et Spiritui Sancti. Amen. Credo in unum Deum,"** and she was off into the ancient prayer once again.  
  
After she finished, the thought started to come into her head, Why are you working on this problem all alone?  
  
"Because Albus asked me to," she muttered back.  
  
Is Albus Dumbledore always right?  
  
"Hell, no," she replied.  
  
Who do you trust to get help from? Who hates Voldemort with as much reason as you do? And don't you know that to solve a problem, you need to add up all the Vectors?  
  
She squeezed her eyes tight shut and groaned aloud at that pun. "My family," she muttered. Her eyes snapped open. Her family. Her family. Her father, Uncle Nicholas, Uncle David, Aunt Mary Henrietta, and her twin Aunt Anne Alexandra, who had been part of the team at Bletchley Park, a.k.a. Station X, that had broken the German Enigma code in the Muggle Second World War. And oh, they had personal reasons in this as well. Her parents had two-thirds of the little graves of their children due to Voldemort's Death Eaters. Her Uncle Nicholas Vector had his Muggle wife and their children buried in that same graveyard, also due to the Death Eaters. Mike, her brother had seen friends and colleagues dead at the Death Eaters' hands.  
  
"Thank You for the answer to the problem, O Holy Wisdom," she said, and took out a pen to start writing to her relatives. She started singing an old Billy Joel song that Brendon had loved. "Well, our fathers fought the Second World War, spent their weekends on the Jersey Shore.." Not entirely accurate for an Englishwoman, but never mind that. She finished that song, and went into "White Cliffs of Dover," then "There'll Always Be An England," and then "When the Lights Go On Again All Over the World."  
  
* Saints Preserve Us!, Kelly,S. and Rogers, R. p. 144 **"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. I believe in one God," 


	17. Tea and a Fashion Show

Chapter 17  
  
Emmy Vector surveyed the costumes she had found so far. For the tribal part of her routine, she had a teal-green halter top, sleeveless and with a high neck, with a great deal of silver embroidery and sequins, and a full teal-green skirt with matching embroidery around the hem and the waist. It had a matching teal-green veil. It was a moderately daring outfit, but nothing too outré by Muggle standards. She supposed that if it wasn't green enough for the Slytherins, she could always change the fabric color with magic. Sinistra and Figg, the Slytherin female faculty, would certainly tell her if the color was "too Ravenclaw."  
  
She took a deep breath as she looked at the other costume, the bedlah as she should call it. She had ordered it from a little shop in the USA, and it was wildly outrageous. It was emerald green and silver, as the terms of the bet provided. The brassiere had long strands of green and silver beads dangling off virtually all the front of it, giving it an almost waterfall- like appearance. The matching belt had the same type of strands of beads on it. It was high-quality, all the beads and sequins sewn on, nothing glued, but, Christ, was it ever daring! Even wearing it with a skirt, harem pants, and a veil, it would still be guaranteed to have every male eye on her.  
  
She turned her attention to the third costume she had found. It was a sage green with a top that covered about as much of her as the halter top did. A slightly lower front neckline, but most of her back was covered, even if her shoulders were bare. And all of her legs were covered by the split skirt. She pulled out a silver veil. It matched the third costume very well.  
  
The fourth costume was made from hunter-green velvet, with silver embroidery. Theoretically speaking, it was a dress with detached sleeves. The halter top was connected with the skirt, after all, even if most of her back and half of her belly were bare. The dress appeared to have a silvery belt at the waist, with long strings of silver beads as a fringe down past her hips. The skirt was tight and slit up to the middle of her thighs on the sides. The sleeves had so many cutouts in them that they looked as if a dragon had gotten at them.  
  
Her fifth costume was a dark green dress, or beledi, that fit rather closely from shoulders to the knees, and with tight sleeves from shoulders to elbows, but then belling out quite widely down to the wrists. It had silver embroidery around the low neckline, on the bodice, from knees to the hem, at the hem, at the elbows, and around the wrists. Asides from the fit, the neckline, and the slits from her ankles to her knees, it was almost normal by the wizarding world's standards.  
  
She frowned. She needed some other female opinion about what would be appropriate. She wondered if it would be better to ask the girls of her House, or her fellow female faculty. Her mother would be of absolutely no help, as she was still rebelling against the image of the novice nun that she had been before she had married Emmy's father. Aoife Finnigan Vector would tell her to wear whatever showed off her figure best, and blithely disregard any possible consequences. It was difficult being the age that she was. She and Severus were the two youngest faculty members by quite some years. Almost everyone else was of another generation. And having no living sisters to ask didn't help matters either.  
  
Well, maybe she would have to take the same approach that the duck-hunting mathematicians did in the joke. "If the faculty are a generation older, and the students are a generation younger, then on average, if I put them together, they'll be my age," she murmured. "Seventh-year Ravenclaw women plus the faculty. That should be a representative group. No, wait." The female faculty were McGonagall, Sinistra, Hootch, Trelawney, Sprout, Figg this year, and she supposed Grubbly-Plank, Pince and Pomfrey should be counted in as well. Nine female faculty needed at least nine students to balance them out. So she needed a few more younger women. "Let's see, if I invite the Head Girl and all the female Prefects, this should work out to give me a median age close to mine," she muttered to herself.  
  
She looked in her filing cabinet for the list of this year's prefects. She took up her quill, and began to pen her invitations. "Tea and a fashion show, that ought to do it," she murmured.  
  
When Emmy Vector hosted the tea a few days later, she was pleasantly relieved to see that that fraud Trelawney had not shown up. Grubbly-Plank had excused herself due to age and infirmity, but McGonagall, Sinistra, Hootch, Sprout, and Figg, had all shown up. Madam Pomfrey and Madam Pince stopped by briefly to get a cup of tea, but they had to be on duty, so made their excuses for not staying long. The young ladies who had been able to come, namely, Alicia Spinnet, Su Li, Susan Bones, Thaliana Greengrass, and Hermione Granger, seemed a bit nervous at first among so many older women.  
  
"So what's the fashion show?" Sprout asked, after everyone had settled into tea, sherry, cakes, and sandwiches. "Is this something to do with that bet?"  
  
Vector smiled. "Yes," she replied. "I simply can't make up my mind on what to wear, and I've got several costumes to choose from."  
  
"Ooh, this sounds like fun," Hootch said. "A pity you have to stick with all green and silver, m'dear."  
  
"There's a lot more you can do with green and silver than you would think, Hetty," Vector replied.  
  
McGonagall shot a sharp look at Susan Bones. "Girl, whatever are you putting in that punch?" she asked. Bones looked terrified. "Come on, girl, I can smell the vodka from over here," McGonagall said. "Whatever are they teaching you here these days, anyway? Don't you know that you should be using Jamaican rum instead?"  
  
Vector shrugged. "Thank God for small favors. At least she's not using Everclear, Minerva."  
  
"Everclear?" Sinistra asked. "I thought that was a Muggle band."  
  
Vector grimaced. "That and a type of alcoholic beverage. About 95 percent ethanol. Very cheap and very popular among the Americans."  
  
"Yes, thank Merlin you're back in civilization now, right?" McGonagall said. She waved her wand at the punch bowl, to fill it with a fresh batch of non-alcoholic brew. "Do you want rum or firewhiskey in it, Emmy?"  
  
Vector replied, slowly, "I bow to your superior experience and palate, Minerva." She was vaguely starting to remember her father's stories about McGonagall. Edmund Vector and Minerva McGonagall had been in the same year at Hogwarts. Emmy had never credited her father's stories before. The hell-raiser her father had described could not possibly be the same woman who ran Gryffindor House with an iron hand.  
  
"All right, Emmy, let's start the fashion show," Figg said. "You need some proper Slytherin advice to deal with that Snape."  
  
Vector went into her bedroom and put on the first costume, the teal green one with the halter top and the silver embroidery on the full skirt, and the matching hip scarf. When she came out, the other teachers emitted gasps, and the girls started blushing.  
  
"Merlin," Figg said. "Talk about showing off your assets." The costume left Emmy's shoulders and most of her back bare, as well as part of her midriff. Emmy pulled the matching teal green veil up around her shoulders, and twitched her silver headdress slightly.  
  
"Oh, Artemis," Sinistra said, giggling. "His eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees you in that."  
  
"Good," Emmy shot back. "I am tired of him talking to me like I'm still a naughty little first-year."  
  
"Oh, he's definitely not going to think that any more, Emmy," Hootch said.  
  
Most of the students were all blushing and looking everywhere but Vector now. "Cor lummee," Greengrass whispered. "You're positively beautiful, ma'am."  
  
Hermione and Su Li were shaking their heads. "It's too much," Su Li said. "Too --- too something," Hermione chimed in.  
  
Vector thought about the arc from Hermione to McGonagall. The caterpillar and the full-grown moth, that's what those two are. "All right, young ladies," Vector said. "I'll try the more conservative costume, shall I?"  
  
She went to her bedroom and changed into the sage green outfit, the one that was practically trousers and a camisole, and threw a silver veil around her body. Then she came back out.  
  
"That's more conservative?" Su Li whispered.  
  
Vector looked down. "Well, I thought that it covered a bit more of me, at any rate," she muttered. She twirled around.  
  
"The color is nice on you, dear," Sprout said.  
  
"Too washed out," Figg replied. "She needs something that's going to stand out in the candlelight. I liked the first outfit better."  
  
Emmy Vector laughed. "All right, I'll try the third one." She went back and changed into the waterfall brassiere and belt, with a green silk chiffon skirt, and kept the silver veil.  
  
All the witches gasped when she came out. "Now that is an outfit!" Figg said. "He definitely won't take his eyes off you, girl."  
  
"Too much," Su Li and Sprout chorused.  
  
"Too outré," Hermione and Alicia Spinnet said.  
  
"He'll want to shag you on the table for sure," Hootch said.  
  
McGonagall grinned and said, "It'll be something to look back to when you're my age."  
  
Hootch looked over at McGonagall. "Minerva, are you're telling me that you stopped?" she asked.  
  
McGonagall smirked. "I've stopped some things," she retorted.  
  
"Hetty!" Emmy interrupted, before McGonagall could deliver Too Much Information. "Just how much rum punch have you had?" Granger, easily influenced by authority, looked as if she were starting to take notes.  
  
"Not nearly enough, Emmy, I can tell you that much," Hetty Hootch retorted. "And none of the rest have had nearly enough, either." She waved her wand, and everyone's glasses refilled with spiked punch. She pressed a drink onto Vector. "Any more costumes, Emmy?" she asked, after Vector had choked down a glass of rum punch.  
  
Emmy sighed. "Two more," she said.  
  
"Get on with it, girl, we haven't got all night," Figg said.  
  
So Emmy went into her bedroom, and put on the full beledi dress. She decided against the veil with this one, but she put the silver headdress back on.  
  
When she came out, the girls sighed with relief. "That looks much more decent," Su Li said.  
  
Figg shook her head. "Too prissy. He'll think that you're trying to welsh out on the bet, keeping yourself all covered like that. You need to show some more skin, Emmy."  
  
Vector raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to go out there naked, Arabella?" she asked.  
  
McGonagall laughed. "It wouldn't be the first time there's been naked dancing in the Great Hall," she said.  
  
"Oh, really," Vector replied. Father never told me about that.  
  
"Well, it didn't start out as naked dancing. We useta have dancing classes, and balls every term here at Hogwarts when I wasa girl," McGonagall replied. "But then in my sixth year, the Slytherin boys gotta hold of some Disrobing and Unravelment Charms. Used them at the Spring Formal on Headmaster Dippet's daughter - they wanted to see if it was all her, or if she padded her brassiere."  
  
"That's a lie, Minerva," Figg replied. "Way I heard it, it wasda Gryffindor girls who thought that she padded her brassiere, and used the charms on the Dippet gel outta sheer jealousy thata Hufflepuff gel had da best figgah in her year."  
  
"Now, now ladies, let's keep it civil," Vector said. "Water under the bridge, an' all that."  
  
McGonagall gave a hiccup. "Anyway, the Gryffindors fixed the Slytherins but good. We all learned the Disrobing and Unravelment Charms, and for weeks, people were getting stripped all around the castle. 'Specially your father and uncles, Emmy. Merlin but were they ever cute back then."  
  
Vector choked on her tea. Sinistra pressed a glass of punch into her hand, and Vector gulped it down, frantically trying to drown the image of her father getting stripped naked by lustful witches - by Minerva McGonagall, of all people!  
  
"A'course, I never stripped Eddie Vector, but a lot of the Ravenclaw girls did, and a lot of the Slytherin ones, too," McGonagall went on.  
  
Dear God, no wonder my father waited until 1959 to get married, Vector thought. She cleared her throat. "Are there any spells that counter the Disrobing and Unravelment Charms?" she asked.  
  
"Oh shure there are," Figg replied. "We Slytherins learned those right away. It was that or catch pneu-pneu-the flu from getting stripped by the Gryffindors all the time."  
  
Vector's voice rose in pitch as she asked, "Can you teach them to me, please?"  
  
"Ya'shure you don't want to know the Disrobing & Unravelment, to useh on Snape?" Figg asked. "Or maybe a Streakers' Spell?" The other witches started laughing.  
  
Vector could feel her face burning. She replied, "Well, I'm certainly not going to give you all a ruddy show." She paused for a moment. Something was wrong with that statement.  
  
"Well, what's this dance for then?" Sprout asked.  
  
Vector cleared her throat. "Sorry. I meant that I'm not going to show you a naked Snape." She thought she heard murmured responses of, "Damn!" and "Too bad!," as well as some finger-snaps.  
  
"Are you gonna go naked then?" Sprout replied.  
  
"No!" Vector shouted. "And if this keeps up, I will bloody well show up in a green-and-silver-dyed potato sack! And fully veiled like a Saudi woman!"  
  
Silence fell. The older witches looked at each other. "We're sorry, Emmy," Sinistra said. The other witches nodded.  
  
Vector nodded back, and started to talk more seriously to the faculty. "Now. I need to learn the anti-Unravelment and anti-Disrobing Charms. Anything else?'  
  
"Don't forget to cast the Anti-Libido Charm on the male students," Sinistra put in. "And some charms ta protect the finishes on the table-tops," McGonagall said.  
  
Emmy replied, "Excuse me?"  
  
"Well, if ya dance on the table-tops, you need to protect the finish. I remember Mr. Ogg constantly yelling at ush for ruining the finishes when we danced on the table-tops, McGonagall replied.  
  
Emmy shook her head. "I don't really think that those will be necessary. I'm not planning to dance on the tables."  
  
"Better shafe than sorry," Figg said. "So what are ya planning to do, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, I want to surprise everyone, Arabella," Vector replied. Everyone fell silent, contemplating what Vector was planning to do with her dance.  
  
"Well, I suppose I'd better show the last costume to you," Vector said. She went into her bedroom and changed into the dress with the Holes, as she thought of it. She grabbed the silver veil again.  
  
When she came out, all the older witches oohed and ahhed, and started to clap. Figg started making noise as if she were at a Quidditch match. "That's the ticket, girl! Now that's a good choice!"  
  
Sinistra started applauding as well. "That'll teach him, Emmy! Subtlety is wasted on the male brain!"  
  
"Even on the male Slytherin brain?" Emmy asked.  
  
Sinistra and Figg laughed. "Some men need to be hit with a brick," Sinistra said, and then Figg finished, "And some need ta be hit with a really big brick."  
  
McGonagall chimed in, "And if you want a man just like your daddy, you'd better bring down the best part of a wall on him!"  
  
Sprout laughed. "With Snape, you need the whole ruddy brickyard!"  
  
Emmy covered her eyes at this. Oh. No. McGonagall did not have a crush on my father. She did not, she did not! And please God, tell me that Sprout does not want Snape, please, please, please.She decided that she needed another glass of rum punch.  
  
Four of the girls watched wide-eyed; Susan Bones had sampled too much punch, and by now was snoring in a corner.  
  
Eventually, McGonagall, Sprout, Hootch, and Figg started to sing a song in four-part harmony. "And what is the use of men, fair ladies? If we had any sense, we would send them to Hades. They say all things have a use, e'en leeches, but to find it of men, we must look in their breeches."  
  
Hermione said, "My God, I thought that Shakespeare was making it up about the 3 witches in Macbeth."  
  
McGonagall snapped, "Don't say the name of that play; it's bad luck!"  
  
Hermione replied, "Only for actors, Professor McGonagall."  
  
McGonagall sat back in her chair. She said, "Well, it was an actor who told me that, come to think of it. Larry was his name. A bit of a shy fellow, but after a couple of Sonorus charms, he'd do anything you asked. I always liked actors."  
  
Hermione wanted to ask if Larry was Sir Laurence Olivier, but she had had so much to drink that her words were coming out funny. She decided to keep quiet, and ask McGonagall about it later.  
  
After that, Emmy started singing "Green Grows the Laurel." When she got to the verse, "Now I oft' times do wonder why maidens love men, And oft' times I wonder why young men love them; But from my own knowledge I will have you to know/That the men are deceivers wherever they go," she thought of her late husband, Brendon Donovan, and how she had seen him at that last party before he died, with his old girlfriend sitting on his lap kissing him. She went on with the chorus, "Green grows the laurel, and soft falls the dew. Don't change the green laurel/For the red, white and blue."  
  
End of Chapter 17 


	18. The Dance Act I

Chapter 18  
  
Vector checked to see that she had all her supplies. She had her music, her costumes, and her shampoo. It was best to be prepared for any contingency. She was still hoping that Dumbledore would pull some sort of last-minute change in the decision about who had won the bet. The Ravenclaw female Prefects were with her to guard her costumes. Between the Weasley twins and Slytherin House, there was more than enough potential for disaster. Vector gave a thin smile at the thought of the Anti-Libido charms she had placed on the Great Hall earlier that day, and the Anti- Omniocular Charm her Egyptian great-grandmother Vector had taught her. All those attempting to use an Omniocular to record her performance would find themselves holding up to their eyes a very angry ten-inch long scarab beetle. It was a trick her great-grandmother had used on quite a few men in her day. No permanent harm done, but it was decidedly off-putting.  
  
"All right, ladies, let's go," she said to Su Li and Cho Chang.  
  
"What about your music, Professor?' Chang asked her.  
  
Vector replied, "Stone the crows! I'll forget my own head next. Thank you, Miss Chang." Vector grabbed the CDs and quickly read their labels to make sure that she'd grabbed the correct ones. She had worked out a complicated charm to convert the ones and zeros on the CD directly into audible music, no electronic equipment needed. It was something like reading a crystal, after all, so it had been considerably easier to deal with a CD than a magnetic tape. Vector would have hired musicians, but she didn't know any wizarding bands that played Middle Eastern music, and she couldn't bring her favorite Muggle musicians to Hogwarts.  
  
Vector marched into the Great Hall with the Prefects trailing her. They spun off from her and sat down at the Ravenclaw table. Vector took a seat at the High Table, on the end, next to Arabella Figg. Snape glared at her as he noted her dress, green decorated with silver, and covering almost all of her, even if it did cover most of her body very snugly. Even if it did flare out at the elbows like a pair of great bells, all the better to show off her slender wrists. And even if it did have a low neckline and slits up to her knees, showing off her legs. He taunted her, "Lost your nerve, Emmy?"  
  
Vector glared back at him. "Not at all, Severus. I merely do not wish to wear my costumes to dinner. I will change into them before the dance and during the intermission."  
  
Due to this exchange, none of the professors noticed that the Weasley twins had gotten Vector's bag away from Li and Chang. The girls got it back after a bit of a struggle, but not before the bottle of shampoo in it had been exchanged for one that Fred and George had brought. Li and Chang, unfortunately, did not pick up on this exchange, as the bottle was almost exactly identical to Professor Vector's regular shampoo, with only the addition of a potion of Fred and George's devising in it to make it different. They had come up with a charm-activated Coloration Potion that would not activate until the words of the charm were spoken.  
  
Vector ducked out after the main course had been served. She really had no appetite tonight, anyway, and had only shown up in the hopes that Dumbledore would change his mind. Li and Chang followed her out. Vector and the girls met up in the girls' lavatory. She began changing into her first outfit. When she was fully dressed in the teal green costume, Chang handed Vector her makeup case, and Vector began to paint her face. She normally did not wear much makeup during the day, but an evening candlelight performance before hundreds was not the time to go for the "natural" look. She adjusted her headdress one more time after she was done with her makeup, to make sure it was going to stay on her head and hold her hair back. She threaded the finger loops for her veil onto her middle fingers, and put her miniature cymbals, or zils, onto her thumbs and first fingers. Vector looked at her image in the mirror one last time.  
  
"You look wonderful, ma'am," Chang said. Li nodded her agreement.  
  
Vector took a deep breath. "Showtime," she muttered.  
  
Meanwhile, out in the Great Hall, the other professors were patrolling the tables, to make sure that no practical jokes would be played during the performance. McGonagall had to confiscate some materials from the Weasley twins. At the Slytherin table, the mood was a bit different. After all, this was a victory for their Head of House. Marian Nott and some other Slytherin second-year girls were listening to Thaliana Greengrass talking about the tea party and fashion show again. Greengrass said, "And her first costume had a beautiful halter top with silver embroidery and sequins and beads all over it. Ooh, look, there she is, she's wearing it!"  
  
Vector stood in the doorway of the Great Hall, wearing the teal green outfit, with her veil wrapped around her. She started slowly walking into the Hall, with Chang and Li following her.  
  
Nott replied, "Oh, that top's lovely. I want one exactly like that."  
  
Malfoy sneered. "You won't be able to find a top like that, Nott. After all, you'd have to stuff it full of socks in order to make it look exactly like Vector's."  
  
Nott glared back at him. "Shut it, Malfoy. You put socks in your trousers."  
  
Malfoy yelped, "I do not! And you'll never be in a position to find out."  
  
Nott smirked. "I'm willing to take Crabbe's word for it." She paused. "And Goyle's." Another pause. "And Parkinson's."  
  
Malfoy shouted, "Pansy Parkinson has never been in my trousers!" He froze as everyone within earshot turned and looked at him.  
  
Dumbledore came up to the table. "Did someone say something about socks, Miss Nott? Some of mine have gone missing recently."  
  
Marian Nott compressed her lips until they were a line, and shook her head, while letting out faint snorting sounds. Draco Malfoy blushed bright red. Some of the other Slytherins started laughing, and had to duck out of the Headmaster's sight. Severus Snape came up to them, and asked, "Would someone care to explain this to me?"  
  
Corentyn Warrington was still laughing. "No, sir, no, sir," he replied. "Oh, look. Professor Vector's here and ready to start!"  
  
Vector walked up to the open area before the High Table, and took a deep breath to calm down. She remembered Giana's advice to her on the last Thursday before. Giana had told her, "This is not a knowledgeable audience that'll grasp the subtleties; all they're interested in is the amount of skin showing and the potential to see even more." Vector tossed her head and snorted as she remembered how she and Giana had been cackling over Snape's probable reaction. Vector whispered the last piece of advice Giana had given her. "And remember, have fun with your dance." Vector walked twice around the area that she had selected, as the music started to play softly. Then she moved to the center of her area, placed her hands together, and bowed to the Head Table, and then turned and bowed to the students. Then she turned to the Head Table again, and started to dance to "Sitt el Hasan."  
  
Vector looked at the entire Head Table. McGonagall, Figg, Sinistra, Hootch and Sprout were all smiling back at her and apparently mouthing words of encouragement. The male teachers, most of them, didn't seem to be all that interested. Excellent. The Anti-Libido Charm is working. She did not dare to look at Snape for very long. She could hear Giana's voice in her head, "Never give the eye to a particular man during a performance, not unless you want trouble."  
  
The first song stopped and the second one began, and Vector heard the words, "Erev Shel Shoshanim."* This was one of the places where she had decided to improvise, and she started to play with her veil. She wrapped it and unwrapped the veil, feeling somewhat like a butterfly opening and closing its wings. She started to spin, and let her veil flow freely about her. She played with the veil, letting the music flow through her and into her hands. She finally started to whirl like a dervish, letting her eyes go unfocused, and turning her right palm up to the sky and her left one down to the earth. When the track came to an end, she stopped her spin, pulled off her veil, and sent it back to her bag with a wave of her wand. *Evening of Roses in Hebrew, a Jewish wedding song...  
  
Snape sat back hard in his seat at that point. Now she was fully revealed. Her shoulders, arms and midriff were totally bare, and she didn't seem to be fazed by it. He thought, Corrupted by the Muggles, Emmy? The new music playing was much quicker in tempo. Snape watched her travel across the floor. He finally noticed that her feet were covered with little silvery shoes, and he was surprised. He had thought that the tradition was to go barefoot. He would have to ask her about it afterwards. Afterwards. Oh gods. He let his mind wander off into a pleasant fantasy about her dancing for him privately in his rooms. He clenched his teeth. No, Severus, no. Not yet. Not yet.  
  
Vector concentrated on the music. This track was a long medley of George Abdo, starting with "Hadouni, Hadouni." She had picked out the quicker-paced songs, to make a nice contrast from the slow veil work. She kept time with her zils. Dear sweet Mary but she missed having a live band to respond to.She shot a quick glance at Snape as he sat at the table. He looked as stiff as an Egyptian monument, and about as responsive. She quickly looked away.  
  
Snape, meanwhile, was thinking dark and jealous thoughts. All right, Emmy, I was wrong about your dancing, and you've proved it. Do you have to be dancing like this in front of everyone? In front of all your male colleagues and students? Although I suppose that for Binns it doesn't matter, because he forgot what sex was a hundred years before he died. But how dare you treat me as equivalent to Binns, and pay the same amount of attention to both of us! I was the one who you made the bet with, and I'm the one you should be paying attention to! You should be dancing for me and only for me, dammit! The thought of Emmy Vector dancing alone for him, down in his quarters, on his territory, made his lips turn up at the corners.  
  
The fast songs came to an end, and "Cleopatra," by Mohammed Abdel Wahab, started. Emmy smiled at this, as it was one of her favorites. Wahab's lyrics reminded her of the Song of Songs, of the lovers looking for each other. She came to rest and she started the slow undulations, moving her arms, bringing them up above her head like a temple dancer, and slowly moving her head from side to side. She let herself feel the music, feel the beat. This was much slower; it was like moving through water. She could now afford to look around a bit more without going dizzy and sick, and she smiled as she saw that the Slytherin and Ravenclaw students seemed to be enjoying themselves. As she turned toward the High Table, she saw the teachers all smiling, except for Snape. But even Snape's lips were turning up slightly at the corners. Emmy's eyes narrowed. She thought, I will win your unqualified appreciation of me yet, Severus Snape.  
  
Vector's smiles and frowns had triggered Snape's jealousy again. Why are you smiling and frowning, Emmy? Does the song remind you of that Muggle you married? Of your lost love? Did you ever dance like this for him? Snape shifted in his seat. He was uncomfortably aware of Vector's body, and he wished that he were alone with her. Control yourself, Severus, he thought. Think of something else. Ice water. A whole bath full of ice water, and you in it. That didn't seem to be doing the trick, as he started to wonder how Vector would like a nice cool bath after this, and how he'd like to be in that bath with her. All right, I'll contemplate that buck-toothed chit Granger doing the Dance of the Seven Veils. Enough to put any man off.  
  
The next song Emmy had picked out was "Asmar Yasmarani." It was quick-paced again, and Emmy danced faster and faster, leaping like a lamb in spring. She started looking at Severus more and more frequently, daring him. Challenging him. She could feel the sweat beading down her back. She was so tempted to break the other major rules as well, to make the sort of vulgar gestures that all proper dancers would not lower themselves to do, but she could hear Giana's voice in her head. "Vulgar gestures cheapen the art in the eyes of the public, and make life more difficult for the next dancer." And besides, she didn't want to get shagged on a table in the Great Hall, with the students still present. So she restrained herself, and concentrated on the music and her form first, and Severus second.  
  
Snape's ego was soothed by Vector's attention, but his mind wouldn't stop working. Dear Merlin, what are the female students going to do? Are they all going to try to emulate her? Will they ask her for lessons? If they do, there goes any chance that anyone will learn anything this year. Well, if Granger asks her for lessons, I could blame this whole fiasco on her and Potter somehow.  
  
"Asmar Yasmarani" came to an end, and the drum solos started. Emmy had picked out a selection from Hossam Ramzy's works. She remembered Giana's admonition to "have fun!" again, and threw herself into the rhythms with a second wind. She moved her hips in time with the drums. The students started to clap in time.  
  
Snape glared at her as she danced to the drums. The drums and her motions seemed too animalistic, somehow. He was grateful that Remus Lupin wasn't there. That damned werewolf was enough of a lady-killer without inspiration. If he were here, he'd probably be transformed, and try to attack her in more senses than one. Although what do I know about the mating rituals of werewolves? Maybe he'd sniff her in inappropriate places, or hump her leg, or something. No, Severus, no. Stop thinking about her legs, dammit. Stop thinking about mating in connection with her.  
  
The music finally came to an end. The students started cheering and applauding. Emmy bowed to the High Table, to the students, and then summoned her veil back. She wrapped it around her, and swept out of the Hall, with Chang and Li in her wake. "Don't worry, Severus," the Headmaster muttered in his ear. "I understand that there are to be two acts." Snape let out a slow breath. Another act. Another eternity of pretending that he was unaffected by Emmy Vector. What did I ever do to deserve this kind of torture?  
  
End of Chapter 18 


	19. The Dance Act II

Chapter 19  
  
When she came in for her second act, dressed in the green waterfall costume, Snape gulped. He was suddenly grateful for his robes, the tabletop, and the tablecloth. Not that Vector had been unattractive before, but this costume was far better at showing off her figure. He watched her regain the attention of everyone in the Hall. And I suppose I'm going to have to discipline the male Slytherins for disobedience in her classes weeks after this; and if I don't have to, that's something else I'll have to worry about. Or if the Slytherin females start acting up in her classes. Although that could be jealousy. He gripped his metal goblet tightly, until he felt pain in his hand.  
  
The music started again. He thought, angrily, Emmy, we all now know you can dance, this is completely unprofessional, go put some clothes on before the students lose all respect for the faculty. And as for the Headmaster - well, if you removed what little clothing you have on, he would only ask if you needed the heat in here turned up, but then again, he has a brother who puts inappropriate charms on goats.and there have been incidents where McGonagall has danced in the Great Hall before. At least you're sober, Emmy.  
  
Vector paused in place, waved her wand, and muttered a spell. She took a step onto empty air, then another, then another, and suddenly she was up and quite literally dancing on the air. Gravity was no boundary to a proper witch, after all. She leaped again and again, until she was almost touching the ceiling, rotated until she was upside down with respect to her audience, and then proceeded to do a short little run of steps before she righted herself again. She descended to tumultuous applause. Everyone could appreciate the difficulty of what she had just done. Mobilicorpus on oneself had its limits, and keeping it up and moving in a different direction at the same time was on the order of simultaneously patting one's own head and rubbing one's stomach.  
  
Snape glared at her. She's not only a good dancer, but she's a powerful witch to boot. And a show-off Ravenclaw to boot. Why should I get involved with her? What am I going to have to offer? How could I possibly keep her by my side?  
  
She took up a scimitar, held it above her head, and then slowly lowered it down. She conjured up a square of rainbow-colored silk, and cut through it with the scimitar; it fell into two neatly cut pieces. Snape gasped as Vector started dancing with the scimitar. "Merlin," he said. He thought, That thing is bloody sharp! She's putting herself in far too much danger! But as he watched, he realized that she knew what she was doing. She balanced it on her head first, and then started moving it, to one hip, then the other. He shuddered at the thought of what could happen to her if it slipped. Then he frowned. She's cheapening the connection between sex and violence. His eyes widened as he pursued that train of thought. Actually, she has killed people, and I find that perversely exciting. She was so pure and innocent when I first met her, and now she could kill me, and I know it. She finished her moves with the sword, tossed it up in the air, and Transfigured it into a candelabrum with three lit candles on it as it came down. Then she grabbed it out of the air, and set it on her head.  
  
He watched in frightened fascination as she danced, hoping frantically that the candles would not set fire to her veil or her hair. She finished with a sweeping curtsey and caught the candelabrum in her hand as it slid off her head. She stepped up to the High Table, and set the still-lit candelabrum down in front of Snape. He thought it was a symbol, but he didn't know of what, and he especially didn't want any colleagues or that know-it-all Granger chit to tell him. There's too much sexual freedom these days, these kids ought to be doing it in the dark, in secret, furtively, and unknowing, dammit, just as we did.He was haunted by a free-floating premonition of disaster happening to him. Nothing ever goes that well for me. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Where's the hitch in all this? When will the other shoe drop?  
  
She retreated from the High Table, turned and bowed to the students, who were all applauding. She then turned to the High Table and bowed again. She waved her wand and called out, "Accio veil!" and then spun around twice, pulling her veil back on, and finished in a complete stop.  
  
"My compliments, Professor Vector," a silky voice said out of the shadows. Lucius Malfoy then stepped out of the darkness. "I would like to meet with you to discuss certain matters in private."  
  
Emmy Vector was absolutely furious with herself. Her Anti-Libido charm had just been aimed at the students and most of the teachers. Apparently, Malfoy had not been affected. And the hell of it was, he hadn't said or done anything she could attack him for as harassing.  
  
"I cannot meet with you, Mr. Malfoy," she replied stiffly. She stood wrapped up in her veil, with her neckline and her head the only parts of her still showing. Calm, cool, collected, and courageous, Emmy. Don't let him see anger or fear.  
  
"Professor Vector, are you unaware that I am an emeritus member of the Hogwarts Board of Directors?"  
  
"I am aware of that fact, sir," she replied in a monotone.  
  
"And you cannot meet with me to discuss official business?" Malfoy said, while starting to circle around her.  
  
"No, sir, I cannot," she replied, turning to keep him in sight. Oh God. Tell me this isn't happening. I am going to lose either my reputation or my job tonight, and not in the manner that I had feared.  
  
"Why can't you meet with me, Professor Vector?" Lucius Malfoy asked.  
  
Vector took a deep breath, reached for her wand, and prepared to tell Lucius Malfoy to go to hell where he belonged.  
  
"Because she and I are celebrating our engagement tonight, Lucius," Snape rasped out.  
  
Both of them spun toward Snape, as he stood before the High Table. Snape came over to Emmy and took her left hand in his right. She felt him sliding something on her finger, and opened her hand so that the ring would go on. When he released her hand, she was wearing a silver ring with a sapphire and two small diamonds on it.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was silent for a long moment. "Congratulations, Snape," he finally spat out.  
  
"Congratulations, Severus!" Dumbledore shouted out. "Congratulations on your engagement, Emmy!" The teachers gave a round of polite applause.  
  
The students first fell silent and then let out a collective gasp. Millicent Bulstrode stood up and started the applause. "Three cheers for Professors Vector and Snape!" she shouted. All of the Ravenclaws then rose to their feet, with the Slytherins following suit, then the Hufflepuffs. The Gryffindors and Draco Malfoy were last to stand, with looks of shock on their faces.  
  
Dumbledore gave Snape and Vector a nod and a wink. Vector looked nervously up at Snape, all six foot two inches of him. Snape sighed, bent down, and brushed his lips against hers for a moment. The cheering grew more raucous and loud at that. He pulled away from her quickly. The faculty were clapping and cheering as well, but then giving Vector commiserating looks. Lucius Malfoy sneered. Snape glared back at him, then picked Emmy up by the waist and gave her a hard, open-mouthed kiss. Vector broke it off first, gasping for breath. Snape took Vector's arm, and led her back around the High Table to run the gauntlet of well-wishing faculty members. Snape murmured into Vector's ear, "We have to talk."  
  
She nodded. "Certainly. Where?"  
  
"In my quarters," Snape replied. She wrapped a cloak around herself, and gave a quick "Accio bag" to make sure that she had everything. He took her by the hand and led her down to his dungeons.  
  
End of Chapter 19 


	20. Evening and Morning After

Chapter 20  
  
Snape's private quarters.  
  
After the two teachers left the Great Hall and were in the dungeon corridors, Snape picked Vector up and slung her over his shoulder.  
  
"Oh! Severus, put me down, you big oaf," Emmy ordered him. He ignored her, and she started to wriggle. He gripped her tighter. She continued to squirm and protest. He slapped a hand over her mouth. She nipped at it.  
  
"Hush, Emmy," he said. "Do you want Malfoy to hear you?"  
  
He carried her into his quarters, and flung her down on the black leather couch. She started up into a sitting position, and tried to jump up. Her head bumped into his chin. He caught her by the shoulders and started to kiss her. Her knees started to shake, and then gave way. She fell back down onto the couch, and hit her head hard on the wall, with Snape on top of her. She broke the kiss and yelped in pain. Stupid clumsy lout, I can't even carry off a woman without bollixing it up, he thought. What are the symptoms of concussion? Amnesia, vomiting, pupils not the same size.  
  
He sat down on the sofa next to her, took her face in his hands, and tried to look into her eyes. "Severus, what are you doing?" she asked.  
  
"Are you quite all right?" he asked. He noted that her pupils seemed to be the same size, and he slowly pulled his hands away from her face.  
  
"Asides from having been celibate for the last six years?" she retorted. "I'm not quite sure I know what you were doing, and I'm not quite sure why you stopped. Could you please explain either of those?" she asked.  
  
Snape gulped. "Well - I - er - I -I was going to put an end to our mutual celibacy, and I thought knocking you on the head might not be the right way to begin," he replied.  
  
"It's tradition. Brendon tripped trying to carry me over the threshold," she replied.  
  
He thought, Better and better. Now she wants to talk about her late husband. "I was planning on shagging you until your ears bled, but knocking your head open against the wall was not the way I planned to accomplish that."  
  
She looked at him and her jaw dropped. "_What_ did you just say, Severus?"  
  
"Yes, you heard me," he replied.  
  
Emmy looked shocked. Her mouth was still open. Severus thought, Wonderful. I have completely wrecked my chances of getting laid any time in the next decade. Or six. Then he looked at her again. She looked shocked, but also interested.  
  
Emmy started to make odd noises, like a cross between laughter and choking. She closed her mouth with an audible click and started to shake her head. "Does it have to be on the sofa? There's a perfectly good bed in the other room, Severus. I can see it and I can walk to it." She got up off the couch, and walked toward his bedroom.  
  
He got up and followed her. "Are you serious? This isn't a joke, is it?"  
  
She spun around. "Well, I'm certainly not going to carry you.wait a minute!" She got an evil grin on her face. "Yes, I am." She pointed her wand at him. "Mobilicorpus!" she said.  
  
Snape thought to himself, There are at least three counterspells to Mobilicorpus, and I am not stupid enough to use a single one of them.  
  
"If you go through with this, there is no quarter and no turning back," he said, while hovering in the air.  
  
"I'm a Roman Catholic. I already knew that about sex," she retorted.  
  
Snape tried to come up with a witty comeback. He hated it when people came up with lines that he couldn't top. He settled for a croaked "Good." I'm trying to be sinister, and she's going sacramental on me, was his last coherent thought for quite some time.  
  
The next morning, Severus Snape watched Emmy Vector sleep in his bed. Emmy turned in her sleep, and snuggled her cheek into her pillow. Now I am getting jealous of a pillow. A bloody damned pillow. She has finally driven me utterly mad. He gave her a cautious kiss on the temple, but she smiled without waking up. Just as well. You don't want to face her rejection when she wakes up, do you now? He got up carefully and slowly. Best to let her sleep. She was magnificent last night. She deserves to get some rest after that. He headed for the shower.  
  
Emmy Vector woke up alone in Severus Snape's bed. She could hear the shower going. Hmm, that seems like a good idea, she thought. She was hot and sticky from the dance and various other activities afterwards. She started looking around his closet and dressers for something to wear other than her dancing costume and cloak. She finally found a deep green shirt that looked like it was part of a pajama set. Then she went into the sitting room to get her bag. She was not going to use that man's shampoo. Sleep in his bed, yes, share the towels maybe, but she drew the line at using what seemingly had the same effects as motor oil to wash her own hair with.  
  
She tested the door to the bathroom, and it opened. She took off the shirt and slipped into the shower with Snape. He spluttered in surprise and protest. She saw the Dark Mark on his arm, and she suddenly realized why he hadn't removed his shirt last night. And here I thought it was out of urgency, or to protect his back from my fingernails. She reached out a hand to his arm. He pulled it back. She retreated, ready to leave him his privacy. "Oh, Merlin, dammitall," he said. She hesitated, half in and half out of the shower. "Come on in, woman. You're getting water all over the floor." He put one arm around her waist and dragged her back in. He swung her around so that her hair and face got thoroughly wet. She spluttered, and wiped the water out of her eyes. "What's this?" he asked her, as he picked up the bottle she'd dropped.  
  
"It's my own shampoo, Severus," she replied. "I will not use that excuse for motor oil that you get from God-knows-where."  
  
He smirked. "I will permit you to use this and insult mine on the condition that I get to apply it."  
  
"Fine, if I get to use it on you and show you that it works better than yours," she retorted.  
  
After the aquatic fun and games, Severus eventually wound up combing Emmy's waist-length hair as she sat, wearing his pajama top, on a chair in his sitting room. He did not have such a frivolity as a mirrored vanity table with a matching chair in his chambers. "I like your hair," he said to her. "The length, the smooth texture."  
  
"I've always liked your hair," Emmy replied. "At least how I remember it from when I saw you in the Quidditch locker rooms, and it was all curly and wet."  
  
"You like curly hair?" Severus asked her.  
  
"Mm-hmm," Emmy replied. "And that's why I get so irritated that you put all that nasty grease in it and straighten it out and make it look all dead and slimy. I would cheerfully trade hair with you in an instant, Severus."  
  
"You must be utterly mad," he replied. He paused with the comb in his hand. "Wait a minute. When did you see me in the Quidditch locker rooms?"  
  
Emmy grinned. "When you and Mike were seventh-years and I was a first-year," she said. "I was waiting for Mike so that we could go out to dinner with our parents after the game, and I saw you in the doorway of the Slytherin locker room wearing nothing but a towel around your waist and with your hair all wet and clean and curly."  
  
"You were eleven years old, for Merlin's sake!" Severus said, aghast. "You started noticing boys that young?"  
  
She blushed, bit her lip, and looked at her lap. Snape noted it. She swallowed and went on, "Mmm. I didn't really appreciate what I'd seen until I was a bit older, but I did find it rather aesthetically appealing. Rather like a Renaissance prince, or St. Sebastian, or a corpus of Christ."  
  
Snape shook his head. "Merlin. I take it you never told your brother?" He thought, I'm still alive, after all, so she must not have told him.  
  
Emmy chuckled. "I asked him who you were, and he told me that it was Severus Snape, the Dark Slytherin, the greasy git, every man's woman and every woman's man," she replied.  
  
"Emmy!" Snape said. "Those rumors are entirely untrue, I'll have you know. Vicious slander on the part of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team."  
  
She laughed outright now. "No, he didn't say that last bit. What he did say was that I should stay as far away from you and your Death Eater gang as possible, and he would personally assure that if necessary."  
  
"So of course, it was a match made in heaven," Severus replied sarcastically, as he went on with combing out her hair.  
  
"Ah, yes," Emmy said. "On the subject of matches. Severus, I was thinking about it this morning, and I don't understand why Lucius Malfoy was stopped in his tracks by an engagement ring. Why did you think that a bullying, sexist, all-round sleaze-ball of a Death Eater would take issue with that, of all things?"  
  
Severus smirked. "Lucius got into some serious trouble with a married woman at one point in his career."  
  
Emmy frowned. "Got into serious trouble? What kind?"  
  
"Life-threatening," he replied. "And Narcissa would only pull his chestnuts out of the fire on the condition that he stick to single women from then on."  
  
"Oh, really? How does that get enforced?" Emmy asked.  
  
Severus sighed. "Perhaps it would help if I rephrased my description of Malfoy's sexual pattern. He keeps looking for a strong woman he can dominate, and so far he's only managed to satisfy the first prong of the test."  
  
"Oh," Emmy said, starting to snicker. "So I suppose that his darling Narcissa is going to rake him over the coals for this one?"  
  
"And how," Severus replied. The clock chimed twice. She looked at the clock, which said eleven-thirty.  
  
"Severus, your clock is broken," Emmy said. "It can't possibly be eleven-thirty. We didn't get in until after ten p.m." She thought, And we've been together for much longer than one hour.  
  
"Eleven-thi - it's not eleven-thirty p.m., it's eleven-thirty a.m. Merlin's ghost!" he said.  
  
Emmy pulled a set of robes out, and Transfigured them into a blue set that would fit her. She and Severus ran so quickly out of his rooms and up to the Great Hall that it almost seemed like Apparition.  
  
End of Chapter 20 


	21. Big Brother at Hogwarts

Chapter 21  
  
Professors Vector and Snape had to stop before they entered the Great Hall, in order to catch their breath. "Do you think we should be brazen or should we try to conceal our guilt?" Emmy asked Severus.  
  
He sighed. "I think that if they cannot figure out what happened last night, they have to be deaf, dumb, blind and thick as a brick to boot," he replied. "However, we are including Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, so, yes, I suppose that we might as well try to conceal it from half of the school."  
  
"Very well." He offered his arm and she took it, and the two marched into the Great Hall together and up to the High Table. Snape sat at Figg's right today, and Vector sat at his right. Dumbledore was not there yet.  
  
At the Gryffindor table, Fred and George Weasley attempted to conceal their glee. They whispered the words of the charm to activate the Coloration Potion. When the potion activated, they drew in their breaths. Both Professor Snape and Professor Vector seemed to be affected. Their hair had turned from black and brown to stripes of Gryffindor red and gold, mingled with Ravenclaw blue and bronze. It was hideously garish, particularly on Professor Vector's long hair, which was hanging wild, free, and uncovered today. "Why did it get her hair?" Fred muttered. He and George looked at each other. "She couldn't have. She couldn't have. He must have drugged or cursed her into it."  
  
Professor Figg said something to Snape and Vector. Vector and Snape stared at each other. Vector brought a handful of her own hair before her eyes, and then let out a banshee scream. "Two hundred points from Gryffindor, Frederick and George Weasley," Snape shouted. "Each," Vector chimed in. Fred and George dived underneath the table. It was bad enough to prank Professor Snape, but pranking the only woman who was willing to marry him would probably result in Snape hitting them with some Unforgiveable Curses. Not to mention the fact that they had just lost four hundred points from Gryffindor.  
  
At this point, Albus Dumbledore entered the Great Hall, accompanied by a wizard in Auror's robes who looked something like a cross between the Arrow Shirt Man and a six-foot, seven-inch tall brick wall. He had the same coloration as Professor Vector - brown hair and eyes, and that very faintly foreign look to his features.  
  
"Oh, shite," Emmy Vector mumbled as she saw her brother Michael with Dumbledore. Snape turned his gaze in the same direction, and turned pale.  
  
Michael Vector stopped dead in his tracks as he saw his baby sister with the same hair color as that Snape. "What's going on, Albus?" he asked.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Isn't it cute? They just got engaged yesterday."  
  
"WHAT!" Michael shouted out. Everyone in the Hall turned to look at him. He then dropped down to a whisper between clenched teeth. "My sister got engaged to that supposedly reformed ex-Death Eater? Albus, what were you thinking in allowing it?"  
  
"I did not allow anything," Dumbledore replied. "Your sister is of age. Ask her what is going on."  
  
Michael marched up to the High Table. "Hello, Emmy," he said. He then grabbed Snape by the collar, and hauled him over the table and out through the Great Hall. The resulting commotion gave the Weasley twins a chance to escape. Emmy Vector ran out after her fiancé and her brother, unnoticed by either.  
  
Michael pulled Snape out into the corridor, and ordered him, "Tell me what charm you worked to make my sister fall in love with you, or I'll kill you." Michael had Snape's collar in his left hand, and his wand ready in his right.  
  
Snape thought quickly. "All right," he said, and kissed Michael firmly on the lips. He felt Mike get paralyzed with shock, and thought gleefully; This is almost worth the trouble. Michael Vector's wand slipped out of his nerveless hand, and Snape put his foot on it.  
  
Snape stepped back, cast a Petrificus on Mike, and fastidiously, thoroughly, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spluttering to get the awful taste out of his mouth.  
  
Mike sputtered with rage and shock, "You utter pervert! You sodding wanker!"  
  
"All right," Snape said, "Let's discuss this like two civilized men, or rather, one civilized man and one homophobic perpetual adolescent."  
  
"What is there to discuss, you filthy Death Eating bastard? You're after my baby sister. You're going to die."  
  
"Shut it, Michael," Snape said. "Your baby sister is a thirty-year- old widow. I think that she should have some say over who she chooses to marry."  
  
"She can't have chosen you of her own free will. She can't have," Michael said.  
  
"I could and I did," Emmy Vector said coldly. Snape spun around and looked at her. "Although I might not have if I'd known that you were going to make a pass at my brother, Snape. I don't know which to be more appalled by; your morals or your taste."  
  
Snape thought, This is a problem I hadn't thought of. ' It's not a pass, it's assault'-no, that's not the right explanation either. "Would you accept my brains, or lack of them, instead?"  
  
Emmy sighed. Michael looked delighted, and started muttering cheers, but subsided when Emmy glared at him. Emmy took a deep breath. Memories flashed through her head. She saw, in her mind's eye, Brendon at that last party before he died, with his old girlfriend sitting on his lap and kissing him. Brendon dead at the hands of the Death Eaters in their Chicago apartment, a few hours after that last party. Her Uncle Jimmy reprimanding her, 'Why didn't you even ask your husband what he was doing with his old girlfriend on his lap? Maybe she made a pass at him. And you'll never know, because you never asked.' Seeing Severus in the chapel, and talking to him about faith. Severus telling her last night, No quarter and no turning back.  
  
"What exactly were you attempting to do by kissing my brother, Severus?" she carefully and precisely asked.  
  
"I did it because if I used Cruciatus on him, you'd have gotten a bit miffed," Snape flippantly replied.  
  
"Severus," Emmy spat, in a warning tone.  
  
Snape sighed, and replied, "I was attempting to shock him enough so that he'd drop his wand. When we did boggarts in Defense class, for him, it turned into Quentin Crisp cooing 'oh, you big butch thing,' and attempting to kiss him. I've never heard any male scream that high or that loud before or since."  
  
She snorted and coughed, then took another deep breath, and tried to suppress a grin. "You are forgiven. Provisionally. But if I ever catch you kissing someone besides me again, I reserve the right to frigging well have your guts for frigging garters."  
  
She took Snape's arm. "Let's go back to lunch, Severus. Michael, you may join us if you can act like a civilized person, and restrain your overprotective urges. Finite Incantatem."  
  
Michael Vector sat on Dumbledore's left hand during the meal, as far away from his sister and Snape as could reasonably be achieved. After lunch, Dumbledore said, "Michael, I need to speak with your sister and Professor Snape about certain matters for a while. Would you terribly mind waiting here for us?"  
  
Michael nodded. "It seems that things haven't changed much since I left."  
  
Emmy looked around. Millie Bulstrode hadn't left the hall yet. Emmy raised her eyebrows at Dumbledore, and gave a nod in Millie's direction. He nodded back. Emmy walked over to the girl.  
  
"Miss Bulstrode, might I ask you a favor?" Emmy Vector said.  
  
"Certainly, Professor Vector."  
  
"Could you give my brother a walking tour? He hasn't been back here in a number of years, and he might like to see how the old place has changed. The Headmaster and I will see to it that you're excused from your classes."  
  
Millie looked over at Michael Vector. She smiled. "I'd be glad to, Professor Vector."  
  
"Good. If I were you, I'd take him out on the grounds so that he can walk off all that nervous energy."  
  
"He is rather protective, isn't he?" the chit murmured.  
  
Emmy sighed, nodded and rolled her eyes. "Christ, yes. I suppose it's only natural, after all." She paused. "Thank you for your support of Severus and me last night." Millie dipped her head, and Emmy went on. "If anyone from any House gives you any trouble about it, you let Professor Snape or me know, hmm?" She patted Millie on the arm, and Millie nodded again. "Now come on and let me give you a proper introduction to my brother."  
  
Millie followed her over to where Michael Vector was sitting. He got up when the two came over. "Millie, this is my brother, Michael Vector, Ravenclaw 1977. Michael, this is Millicent Bulstrode, the best Arithmancer to study here in fifty years."  
  
Michael raised his eyebrows at the hint about their father in his sister's words, and then even more as he took a good look at Millicent. "And as beautiful as you are intelligent, Miss Bulstrode. My pleasure. It's kind of a young lady like yourself to take the trouble to spend time with an old man like me."  
  
Millie's jaw dropped in disbelief, but the expression on his face was totally serious. She closed her mouth with an audible click. Emmy gave her brother a hard look and raised an eyebrow at him, but he merely shrugged his shoulders.  
  
Emmy and Snape went off with Dumbledore, and left Millie and Mike alone in the Great Hall. "So. Where should I begin?" Millie asked the Auror.  
  
Mike tilted his head back, in thought for a moment. "How about we go outside while the sun is still shining? "  
  
She nodded. "I'll go get my cloak," she said.  
  
He shook his head. "No need, lass." He took his own cloak off. "Duplicatus," he said, and there was a second Auror's cloak lying next to his on the table. He held it up to her briefly, and then with a wave of his wand, shrunk it down to fit her. Then he looked at her. "What's your favorite color?"  
  
Millie bit her lower lip. "Purple," she muttered. "Deep dark purple, almost a black."  
  
Michael grinned. "Purple it is then for the lovely lady." He waved his wand and muttered a few Latin words. The cloak changed colors from blue to purple, with a silver star-shaped clasp at the neck.  
  
The two of them talked Arithmancy all the way out the doors and onto the grounds. Mike then asked Millie about the Defense classes, and got quite worked up about the teachers of the last five years. "Quirrell? The man was half Dark to begin with, even before he got taken over by Voldemort!" he said. Mike was then enraged to find out that Gilderoy Lockhart had been a teacher during Millie's second year. His comments about the feckless Lockhart were positively obscene, although he was quite apologetic to Millie after the words escaped his mouth. At the news that a werewolf had been a teacher during Millie's third year, he said, "Seems like Dumbledore was scraping the bottom of the barrel." When she told him that the fourth-year professor had been a disguised Death Eater, he again used sulfurous language, and had to apologize for it. Millie didn't have the heart to tell him that she had heard much worse in the Slytherin common room. When Mike heard that Arabella Figg was the current Defense professor, he said, "Now he's pulling in the retirees who've been out of it for the past fifteen years!" The Auror finished his tirade with the remarks, "What the bloody frigging devil are they teaching you in these schools? The Ministry will have to do the first five years over for your class when you start with us. We might as well start from scratch!" Then Millie got Mike started on Auror training, and his experiences as an Auror.  
  
They kept on talking and walking around the lake, and then out towards Hagrid's hut, without even noticing it. Suddenly, Millie whipped out her wand, and screamed a warning to Mike of, "Look out!" Something that looked like a Dementor had come out of the forest, and was coming toward them. She aimed her wand at the creature. "Riddikulus," she shouted, thinking that it was a boggart. Her spell had no effect. She clenched her jaw, and tried a different tactic. "Ex-Expecto Patronem!" she shouted. A silvery butterfly appeared, and flew at the Dementor, which batted it aside and continued toward them.  
  
"Hold your fire, girl," Mike said, and then he rushed the Dementor. She gasped in disbelief. The Dementor reached for him. He dodged it. It swiped at him, and grabbed him. It started pulling him toward its face. He grabbed the Dementor by the throat, and she heard a sharp crack. He pulled the thing up off its feet, and then took one hand off the Dementor's throat. He drop-punched the Dementor, and it flew backward about ten feet. It rolled over, and grabbed him by the leg, trying to knock him down. He started bleeding from its claws, but failed to notice. Bulstrode wondered if she could help, but she couldn't think of any more spells, and attempting to physically help probably would not be a good idea. She picked up a large branch from the ground, waiting for a clear shot at the Dementor. She ducked and weaved, trying to follow, but seeing no opportunity to hit the monster without hitting Mike. Mike kicked the Dementor, stomped on it, and it stopped moving. Millie watched in disbelief. She had never known that a Dementor could be killed, but she had no doubt that was what she had seen now.  
  
Mike turned to Millie, and saw her wide eyes and her white face. She took a step back. He looked like a berserker, all covered with ichor and blood, and she thought of the old stories about not being the next thing that a berserker should see. He flinched and started to shake. "Tis' dead," he said. "Dead, dead, dead."  
  
Millie rushed toward him. He attempted to hold her at arms' length, but she held him tighter and closer than that. They patted each other on the back until they calmed down. "You need a keeper, Michael Vector," she told him. "Taking on a Dementor with your bare hands, of all things." And I want that job, she thought. Then she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for saving my life," she said.  
  
Mike blushed, and mumbled a reply. He asked her, "Didn't you think that it was stupid, lass?"  
  
"Oh, it was stupid, all right," Millie replied. "But brave and awe- inspiring too."  
  
Mike said, "We'd better get back in and let Dumbledore know what just happened, Millie. This is not a normal situation for Dementors to be wandering about Hogwarts, is it now?"  
  
Millie shook her head. "No. There were some around last year for the Tri- Wizard Tournament, but I thought that the Headmaster got the Ministry to take them all away again." 


	22. The Office and the Infirmary

Chapter 22  
  
When Bulstrode and Michael Vector came into the castle, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were both in the hall at the same time. Malfoy said, "My God, Bulstrode, what did you do to him? Did you try to rape him and make him fight you off? The Vectors must have some sort of strange power to attract members of Slytherin House." Harry Potter was there as well, and he tried to pull Auror Vector away from Bulstrode. She waved her wand at them and said, "Eat slugs!" Millie then proceeded to haul Mike Vector to the infirmary.  
  
Meanwhile, Dumbledore had been talking to Emmy Vector and Snape about their engagement. He was personally thrilled and professionally appalled. Snape was a field agent, and Emmy was a back-room boffin. The potential for disaster was immense. Snape was so paranoid, and Emmy had essential secrets to keep. Snape, meanwhile, was trying to impress on Dumbledore and Vector the essential need for the wedding to be held as quickly as possible. He was quite frustrated, because it seemed as though neither his future wife nor the Headmaster were taking him or the danger from Lucius Malfoy seriously.  
  
Snape paced back and forth, his robes swirling. He shouted, "I'm telling you, Emmy, that you will not be safe if you do not marry me as quickly as possible!"  
  
Emmy Vector glared back at him, her hands balled into fists. "And what if I do marry you? What then? Am I supposed to go to Death Eater revels with you, or swear allegiance to -to the one who put that -- Mark on your arm? Am I supposed to put myself outside the laws of God, Muggle and Wizard for you, to make myself dammed and criminal?"  
  
Snape shook his head. "Nobody expects an Arithmancer to be of use in a war, my dear." Emmy's face went blank. He continued, "And I would never ask you to do more than attend the public functions, and to keep my secrets until the war is over."  
  
Emmy Vector snorted. "And can you keep my secrets, Severus, or accept that I have secrets to keep?" Dumbledore frowned at her. This was getting perilously close to information that Snape absolutely could not know. She gave him a tiny nod.  
  
Snape saw the nod, and suddenly realized why Emmy's face had gone so blank. He opened his mouth, but Emmy quickly covered it with her fingers. "Don't say it, Severus. Don't say anything."  
  
He nodded in acknowledgement. "You may Obliviate me now, Emmy."  
  
She looked at Dumbledore, who shook his head. "That's not necessary, Severus."  
  
Snape went on, "You don't have to go to Death Eater revels with me. We'll have a Catholic marriage, and they'll assume that I just use you for sex and don't tell you anything of importance."  
  
The look on her face made Snape realize that if he did not apologize, he would not have the chance to use her sexually regardless of marital status. He stepped back. She brought her arm back, and then stopped herself and spat, "Catholic marriage? Are you saying you're going to convert?"  
  
Snape smirked. "Well, if I understand it correctly, it would mean that you couldn't get out of it." His face then froze as the realization, I couldn't either, hit him.  
  
Emmy raised her eyebrows as her mouth hung open. The thought of Snape's first confession was not a road she wanted to travel down. Worse than the six months of the song. He'll need priests in shifts to hear it. I'd better keep him away from Uncle Jimmy and Friar Sorin until after he's confirmed. Hell, until after this bloody dammed frigging war is over, come to that. "I could get out of it by killing you," she lightly said.  
  
Snape stared at her and did a double-take. "I don't know much about Catholic theology, but I'm reasonably sure that's a sin."  
  
Emmy's mouth closed and twisted. "The just man sins seventy times seven a day, and my only difficulty would be in repenting afterwards."  
  
Snape retorted, "Well, killing me to get rid of me wouldn't get you out of anything."  
  
Emmy sneered. "It only traps me under canon law if I've got a replacement already lined up."  
  
Albus Dumbledore sighed and stepped in between the two of them, saying, "I'm sure the two of you can resolve your differences short of homicide."  
  
Emmy looked back at Dumbledore. "Great bodily harm? Mayhem? Malice?"  
  
Dumbledore said, "Try to set a good example for the students."  
  
Snape drawled, "A good example of what precisely, Headmaster?"  
  
Justin Fitch-Fletchley pelted into the room at that point.  
  
Snape turned and said, "What!" Snape thought, Just my luck, I finally come up with something the Headmaster can't answer, and I get interrupted.  
  
Fitch-Fletchley was panting for breath, but he managed to get out, "Auror Michael Vector's in the infirmary with Millicent Bulstrode," he panted, "and Malfoy and Potter are spitting slugs."  
  
Emmy Vector turned on Fitch-Fletchley. "What do you mean, my brother's in the infirmary with Bulstrode? Are they having a cup of tea together?"  
  
Fitch-Fletchley was completely shaken by now. He gasped, "Well, she said it was all his blood."  
  
Emmy turned white. She nodded to Snape and the Headmaster, saying, "Gentlemen, we'll continue this discussion later." She hurried out.  
  
Snape was thoroughly furious by now. "What happened, you little cretin?" he barked.  
  
Dumbledore said, "Severus." He gave Fitch-Fletchley a lemon drop, and said, "Now, you can tell me what happened on our way to the infirmary." The two men and the boy hurried out of the office, through the halls, and to the infirmary. Fitch-Fletchley babbled disjointedly, but Dumbledore finally managed to get the information that Millie Bulstrode and Auror Vector had been attacked by Dementors on Hogwarts grounds. Snape frowned when he heard that Malfoy was now spitting slugs. He didn't particularly care about Potter, but the situation with Lucius Malfoy was tricky enough as it was, without Slytherin House rebelling against Draco Malfoy.  
  
At the infirmary, Snape came up to Michael Vector's bed. Millicent Bulstrode was sitting next to an unconscious Auror Vector and gripping his hand tightly. Emmy Vector was at her brother's other side. Snape asked, "Bulstrode, why are Malfoy and Potter spitting slugs?"  
  
Millie glared back at him. "Sir, Potter tried to interfere with me getting Auror Vector to the infirmary, and Malfoy made some very rude remarks about Auror Vector, Professor Vector, and their attraction for members of Slytherin House. I didn't have time to stop and reason with Potter, and Malfoy deserved it."  
  
Snape thought, Why didn't you get Lucius while you were at it? It wouldn't have made things any worse.He brought his hand up to his face, rubbed his temples, and sighed. "Twenty points from Slytherin and a detention, Bulstrode, for attacking fellow students."  
  
Emmy Vector said, "Thirty points to Slytherin for helping a visitor to the school. And you will serve your detention with me, Bulstrode."  
  
Bulstrode grinned briefly, and then folded her lower lip under her teeth and gave Michael Vector a quick glance. She still had not released Auror Vector's hand. Emmy Vector raised her eyebrows at this, and nodded her head slightly. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Snape glared at his fiancée. What the bloody devil is she playing at? First she picks a fight with me this afternoon, after last night and this morning, and now she's trying to snare my students away from me. Damn sneaky Ravenclaw wench. My gods, she's not promoting this unnatural relationship? Well, it would have the advantage of being even more of a scandal than her and me, but there are some things that I simply cannot be party to. Doing an injury to one more-or-less innocent human being, but I'm not certain which one it is.Or at least unleashing something new and terrible on an unsuspecting world. My gods, imagine if they bred.  
  
"And why did my brother need to come to the infirmary, Miss Bulstrode?" Emmy asked.  
  
Millie's plain face glowed. "He killed a Dementor with his bare hands."  
  
Snape said, "I didn't realize they could be killed."  
  
Dumbeldore replied, "They have a corporeal element, Severus."  
  
Snape thought, I suppose that if there are such things as berserkers, it wouldn't surprise me that Michael Vector is one of them. Of course, that sort of inhuman rage is not a happy emotion, so there's not that much a Dementor can do to it. And since they are slightly corporeal themselves -hmm, dissection of a Dementor? There must be something useful to do with the bits.and sending Michael Vector off for them would be something useful for him to do. I had better not say that in front of Emmy or apparently, in front of Bulstrode.  
  
Snape left the infirmary at that point. If he hadn't left, he would have said something cutting about the look of adoration on Bulstrode's face. Not that he was worried about spitting slugs, but the thought of having to deduct points from Bulstrode and having Emmy keep rewarding the girl would mean just allowing Michael Vector to ruin more of his day than that idiot already had. He would let Dumbledore worry about what the Dementors were doing there in the first place. He made his way down to the dungeons, thinking all the way.  
  
So what is Emmy upset about? I think that I satisfied her last night and this morning, we both were freely consenting adults of the same species, and the sex was practically plain vanilla. No blood, whips, chains, summoning of supernatural horrors, or magical consequences. I'm almost certain that she didn't want any.And even on a purely mundane level, no monsters.  
  
He sighed as he made his way down the stairs. I will never understand women. Is this some sort of weird Catholic thing? And if so, was it something I didn't do and was supposed to, or something that I did do and wasn't supposed to? And how can I get her to give me a hint? Is there anyone else here I can talk to about this? Dumbledore? No. McGonagall? He shuddered at the thought. Absolutely not, that frigid old bat. Sprout? Hah! Hootch? No. Figg? No! Pomfrey? No. Pince? Hah! Of course not. Trelawney? Not if my life depended on it. The students? NO.  
  
Snape opened the door to the classroom, and stepped inside. He thought as he graded essays, Well, the Bloody Baron was probably Catholic, I'll go ask him for advice.Of course, what the Bloody Baron comes up with may not be terribly helpful. After all, he was murdered by his wife, and in his case, deflowering a virgin was probably involved."Baron, I need to speak with you," he called out softly.  
  
The Baron appeared in the middle of the room. "What concerns you, Head of Slytherin?" he asked.  
  
Snape sighed. "Woman problems, and her family hates me."  
  
The Baron chuckled. "I heard your joy with a woman on Hallows Eve, Snape. And you are not married to her, and her family hates you?"  
  
Snape nodded as he looked at essays. Longbottom -very bad, do this over, Potter, your name will only get you so far, Granger, sickeningly perfect as usual, too much information to wade through.  
  
The Baron continued, "Who are they trying to marry her off to, and how much dowry is involved?"  
  
Snape snorted. "No one as far as I know. And we don't do dowries anymore, Baron."  
  
"What is her status, Snape?"  
  
Snape let out a breath through pursed lips. "She's a widow, just turned thirty, father a professor somewhere in Ireland."  
  
The Baron laughed. "They should be paying you to take her off their hands."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes. "She is the only surviving daughter, after all."  
  
The Baron floated around. "That is one consideration. But her father is a mere scholar?"  
  
Snape retorted, "What do you mean, 'mere?'"  
  
The Baron backed off. "Let us get to the meat of the matter. Did you promise to marry her, and were you lying?"  
  
Snape said, "Yes to the first, no to the second. She's the one who's dragging her feet."  
  
The Baron smiled. "Then there is a pre-contract, and she cannot get out of it without much cost and ruining her reputation."  
  
Snape frowned. "She said that canon law has changed on that, and those don't exist anymore."  
  
The Baron sucked his teeth. "Oh, then you've got a problem. It was a sin!"  
  
Snape set down the papers with a resounding thud. He turned to the Baron and said, "This is a woman who's killed people! Why is she so upset about a mere roll in the hay or two?"  
  
The Baron grinned. "Did she enjoy sex with you more than she enjoyed killing?"  
  
Snape snorted. "Well, I certainly hope so."  
  
The Baron said, "Well then, she will naturally feel more guilty about the sin she enjoyed committing."  
  
Snape scowled, and asked, "Naturally?"  
  
The Baron replied, "Oh, don't try to pretend you don't know about guilt."  
  
Snape said, "Well, I have things to feel guilty about."  
  
The Baron sighed, and said, "There's a reason I didn't go into the Church. Why don't I get Father Sorin to explain it for you? Father Sorin, we need you."  
  
Fr. Sorin materialized. The Baron quickly summed up the situation for him. Father Sorin said, "It's a matter of a mortal versus a venial sin."  
  
Snape said, "What the bloody devil does that mean?"  
  
Fr. Sorin sighed and said, "This is going to take a while. Basically, a mortal sin is a sin that kills the soul, cuts it off from God, and subjects the sinner to eternal punishment. Mortal sin destroys charity in the heart of man by a grave violation of God's law; it turns man away from God, who is his ultimate end and his beatitude, by preferring an inferior good to him."  
  
Snape nodded his head. This was almost as bad as listening to Binns.  
  
Father Sorin continued, "Venial sin allows charity to subsist, even though it offends and wounds it. For a sin to be mortal , three conditions must together be met: 'Mortal sin is sin whose object is grave matter and which is also committed with full knowledge and deliberate consent.' Mortal sin requires full knowledge and complete consent . It presupposes knowledge of the sinful character of the act, of its opposition to God's law. It also implies a consent sufficiently deliberate to be a personal choice. Feigned ignorance and hardness of heart do not diminish, but rather increase, the voluntary character of a sin."**  
  
Father Sorin glared at Snape. The genial look so common to the Hufflepuff Friar's face was completely absent. "Now, since she fully knew she was having sex with you outside of marriage, and completely consented to it, and knew it was wrong, she committed a mortal sin, and her conscience is troubling her."  
  
Snape was utterly nonplussed by all this. He asked, "You mean she feels guilty about having sex with me and enjoying it?"  
  
Fr. Sorin clapped his hands together at chest level, and then opened them. "Now you begin to understand!"  
  
Snape warily replied, "Would she feel better if she had sex with me and didn't enjoy it?" And oh, what a thoroughly unpleasant experience that would be.  
  
Father Sorin shook his head, "Now, my son, it doesn't quite work that way. I need to explain penance to you. When you do something wrong, you need to take action to correct it. When your soul is sick, it needs healing. Penance heals the soul and reconciles you with God and the . community, let us say for now."*  
  
Snape shouted, "So what do I need to do?"  
  
Father Sorin shouted back, "Marry her, you nitwit!!"  
  
Snape jumped up from the table, scattering essays everywhere, and shouted, "I'm trying to, dammit, and she's the one who's dragging her feet!"  
  
Father Sorin drew himself up, and started ticking things off his fingers as he talked. "Have you told her that you loved her? Have you asked her father for her hand? Have you asked her for her hand?" Snape winced. Father Sorin threw up his hands and went on, "There's a reason we expect you to get this all sorted out before you have the roll in the hay. It gives you incentive to get to the sticking point! She's probably feeling used right now, and wondering what your incentives truly are, and how long you're going to stay with her!"  
  
Snape said, slowly, "She's feeling used. And you want me to refuse to sleep with her until she marries me?"  
  
Father Sorin looked up and said, "Out of the mouths of babes and little ones, and of the Head of Slytherin. The light dawns, he comprehends more fully. Yes, you should refuse to sleep with her until she marries you."  
  
Snape sneered, "Fortunately, I'm not a Catholic yet."  
  
Father Sorin raised his eyebrows. "Well, then you'll need a dispensation from the Pope, or else the marriage won't be valid, and she can leave at any time." Snape glared at him. Father Sorin looked at his fingernails, polished them on his rough Franciscan robe, and went on, "Or you could convert and make the matter moot."  
  
Snape wailed, "Why do I have to enforce the religious laws, when it's not even my religion yet?"  
  
Father Sorin gave him a savage smile. "Because she'll feel guilty every time you do it until you're married, and in fact, not just every time you do it, but every time she wants to or you want to."  
  
Snape said, "I'm trying to make it legal!"  
  
Father Sorin said, "Bah. I'm not interested in legal. I'm concerned about sacramental. Legal can go hang for all I care."  
  
Snape grinned. "Finally you've said something I understand. 'Legal can go hang.' There are some possibilities here, then?"  
  
Father Sorin's mouth twitched. "Yes, a good old-fashioned secret marriage."  
  
Snape said, "Traditional, secret, extra-legal. I like the sound of that."  
  
Father Sorin smiled faintly and said, "Let me check what the new rules are for how this works, my son."  
  
Snape let out a deep breath. "I've got both Codes of Canon Law in my office, on my desk, third stack from the left, top of the pile. Baron, you can let him in."  
  
Father Sorin gave him a genuine smile, and said, "Good lad. I knew your heart was in the right place. I'm sure we can work something out. The Church has been dealing with this type of thing for centuries." Father Sorin and the Baron disappeared. Snape waved his wand and spoke, and the papers reassembled themselves.  
  
Snape swirled his cloak and stalked out the door with a smirk on his face. He thought, I am going to catch That Woman. And is Millicent Bulstrode going to have to go through this sort of thing with Michael Vector? Perhaps I should discuss this with Father Sorin, and ask him to talk with her. Maybe it's not too late for her to save herself. It did not occur to him to try to save himself. In his mind, the differences between Emmy and Michael were so obvious that there was no possible comparison.  
  
** * End of Chapter 22 


	23. All Souls' Day

Chapter 23  
  
It was a foggy, cold day that November second. The Vector family walked out of the church and through the graveyard. Edmund and Aoife set their flowers down on the six graves with the little tombstones. Uncle Nicholas Vector set flowers down on the four graves for his family. Uncles David, Robert and Thomas Vector were there as well. Aunt Anne Alexandra Vector Tonks and Aunt Philippa Vector Shacklebolt gave their sister-in-law a hug. The Finnigan aunts and uncles, Declan, Kieron, Bridget Finnigan Murphy, Deirdre Finnigan O'Neill, Desmond, and Father Jimmy, were there as well.  
  
Uncle Father Jimmy started to recite prayers in Latin. Aunt Mother Superior Dorothy Vector joined him. Emmy felt a prickling sensation between her shoulder blades, as if someone were watching her. She turned her head and looked around. At first, she thought that the figure in black was another priest in a cassock, but then she realized that it was Snape. She drifted away from the family group, towards him.  
  
Snape saw her looking at him. His eyes flashed with anger, and he stalked toward her. "Did you forget to tell me something today, Emmy?" he said softly when he reached her.  
  
"Such as?" Emmy asked.  
  
"Dammit, woman, I'm your fiancé, after all. I'm supposed to be invited to these little family functions, am I not?"  
  
Emmy took a deep breath. "Normally, Snape, yes. However, I thought that springing most of my family on you less than forty-eight hours after announcing our engagement might be a bit much. Particularly bringing you to a cemetery."  
  
She could hear that Uncle Jimmy was finished, and then her brother Mike stepped next to her and Snape. "Snape, you greasy bastard, what the frigging hell are you doing here?" Mike whispered.  
  
"I was looking for my fiancé," Snape retorted. "And what is your family doing here?"  
  
"It's All Souls Day, you pagan oik. We're remembering our dead, especially those who your filthy Death Eater lot killed, like our little sisters and brothers, Emmy Vector!" Mike was practically shouting now, and attracting attention from all over the cemetery. He pulled Emmy away from Snape.  
  
Snape took Emmy's arm, and she moved towards him. "So I'm a filthy Death Eater, am I? Good enough for a quick shag in the dungeons, but not good enough to bring home to your family?" Snape whispered, between clenched teeth, to Emmy.  
  
"What's left of our family -- Emmy, you didn't give him a quick shag!" Mike said, horrified.  
  
"Don't worry, it wasn't that quick," Severus retorted.  
  
Emmy glared at her fiancé and her brother. "Severus," she hissed, and then turned to her brother. "My love life is none of your damned business, Michael Vector," Emmy replied. She took a deep breath, and then moved her arm and took Snape's hand. "I suppose that since you're here, Severus, we might as well get the introductions over with." She led him over to the graves where her parents and uncles were standing. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is my fiancée, Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts. He was the same year as Michael, but in Slytherin. Severus, my father, Edmund Vector, Hogwarts class of 1937, Ravenclaw House. My mother, Aoife Finnigan Vector. My aunts, Dorothy (Mary Elizabeth) Vector, O.P., Hogwarts class of 1941, Slytherin House, and Anne Alexandra Vector Tonks, Hogwarts class of 1941, Ravenclaw House, and Philippa Vector Shacklebolt, Gryffindor 1943. My uncles, Nicholas Vector, Hogwarts class of 1939, Ravenclaw House, Robert Vector, Ravenclaw House 1946, Thomas Vector, Hufflepuff 1949. My mother's siblings, Declan, Kieron, Bridget Finnigan Murphy, Deirdre Finnigan O'Neill, and Desmond Finnigan, and James Finnigan, S.J."  
  
Snape and all Emmy's remaining family muttered greetings. Snape looked at the names and dates on the gravestones. Joseph Columcille Vector May 1 1962-May 2 1962. John James Vector November 1 1964- November 2 1964. Margaret Anne Vector, December 1 1969-August 10, 1975. Angela Agnes Vector, April 9 1971-August 10 1975. Kevin Matthew Vector, September 17 1973-August 10 1975. Brian Luke Vector, December 20 1974-August 10 1975. Elizabeth Anne McGowan Vector, Beloved Wife. May 7 1930-August 10 1975. Mary Madeline Vector, January 21, 1952-August 10, 1975. Nathaniel John Vector, March 30, 1955 - August 10, 1975. Theodore Jude Vector, June 10, 1960-August 10, 1975.  
  
"Oh, no," Snape muttered under his breath. He remembered August 10, 1975 all too well. One of the largest attacks by the Death Eaters, on Diagon Alley itself. So. Her family members were some of the victims. And if I had not provided the weapon, they might still be alive. He looked at the Vectors again. He swallowed. "I am deeply sorry for your losses. My condolences."  
  
Nicholas Vector glared at him. Edmund Vector's face was unreadable. Aoife Vector looked at Snape, then at Emmy, and bit her lip. The man in the Roman collar looked at the other Vectors and Finnigans, and then at Emmy and Snape. "Well, better late than never," Father James Finnigan said. There were surprised sounds of shock from the others. "Come on. Didn't Himself say 'let the dead bury their dead?'" He sighed at the stunned looks of incomprehension on their faces and continued, "Let's go inside and argue about this where it's warm and dry and we can get a wee bit to eat and drink."  
  
The others nodded, and they all walked to Edmund and Aoife's. The Vector house was indeed warm and dry, and Aoife Vector's idea of "a wee bit to eat and drink" was enough bounty to put a house-elf to shame. After running a gauntlet of introductions to numerous Vectors, Finnigans, and Fitzgeralds, Snape wound up juggling a grossly over-filled plate and a large mug of tea with a generous splash of whiskey in it. He drifted off to a corner, and watched Emmy with her family. They were starting to lose their somber attitude, and Snape could hear rapid talk in English and Irish, and a fair amount of laughter. Little children were noisily running around, older children were moving around in groups, and people were everywhere. Father James Finnigan, carrying a full plate and mug of tea, came and sat next to Snape in his corner.  
  
"Well, it looks like the lass is keeping up the crazy Vector family traditions," he said. "I suppose that isn't the worst possible way to meet your future in-laws, though."  
  
"What could possibly be worse than that?" Snape asked him.  
  
Father Finnigan chuckled. "How about the way that her father met her grandparents for the first time?"  
  
"What happened?" Snape asked.  
  
Finnigan took a swig of tea, and then began to talk. "Well, when her father and mother met, my sister, her mother, was in the Little Company of Mary, a Catholic nursing order. Her father got into a car accident in Edinburgh, wound up in St. Raphael's Hospital, and met and fell in love with my sister. She decided when her temporary vows expired that she was leaving the order and marrying Edmund. So here's Edmund, this Englishman, twice her age, tempting her to leave the order, and coming to visit my Irish-speaking, devoutly Catholic parents for the first time."  
  
Finnigan paused and took another mouthful of tea. "He takes the ferry over to Dublin, rents a car, and decides to drive all the way out to Kerry, instead of taking the train or Apparating like any sensible man would. Well, my parents know how long it takes to drive from Dublin to Kerry, and it was quite a jaunt in those days. So they're all waiting for Edmund to get there, and they keep waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Finally, six hours after he should have gotten there, they get a phone call that he's in hospital in Limerick, having gotten into another car accident."  
  
Snape was wide-eyed in disbelief. Father Finnigan went on, "So here instead of him coming to us, we all have to pile into our old jarvey and drive up to Limerick, to get Edmund out of hospital there. My sister was not about to leave him in hospital to chat up more novices, now."  
  
"So he met your parents for the first time in the hospital?" Snape asked.  
  
Finnigan chuckled. "Aye, that he did, and he was banged up like anything and arguing with the doctors and nurses that he had to get out, that he had to go see Aoife and meet her parents, and here we all came in the door witnessing him insisting that yes, he could go ahead and drive, that it was only one arm that got broken, he could still shift gears, and he would be perfectly fine to get to Kerry on his own. So of course, then we knew that everything was going to be fine. He was just as crazy as the Finnigans."  
  
Snape was laughing quite hard at the image of that sober, proper gray- haired man that Emmy had introduced as her father being that young at heart and crazy with love. Then he sobered up. "How do I get her family to accept me, Father?' He thought, How many of my own bones do I have to break?  
  
Finnegan swallowed some more tea. "You've already made a start, by showing up and making your apologies. But you'll have to keep on going with the right actions. And I'll put in some good words for you as well. After all, if you look at it in one light, your old crowd owes the Vector family eight lives. Maybe it's time for someone to give lives rather than taking them away." He paused, then said, "Now go on over and pay some attention to your fiancée, and quit spending time in the corner with an old man like me."  
  
Snape shook his head as Finnegan shooed him toward the dining room. He thought, Just bloody wonderful. Of all the witches in Britain and Ireland, I have to find one who's got a short, skinny, Jesuit version of Albus Dumbledore as her uncle.  
  
As Snape made his way back to the dining room, he heard shouts of "Wahhey! It's Lar! Apparated all the way from America! Join the party, Lar!"and then a "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it's Cousin Laurence!" from Emmy. He heard footsteps, and then Emmy was by his side, panting. "Come on, Snape, let's go hide someplace," she said to him.  
  
Snape raised his eyebrows. "Far from the madding crowd?" he said.  
  
Emmy shook her head. "It's not that. All my aunts and uncles put together aren't nearly as bad as Cousin Laurence Fitzgerald, and that's saying something."  
  
Snape touched his tongue to his lips. "The name sounds familiar," he said.  
  
Emmy snorted. "It's because that nutter makes the Quibbler every single issue, and the Daily Prophet's News of the Weird column at least once a month."  
  
"Oh. That Laurence Fitzgerald."  
  
"Yes. In a nutshell."  
  
"And what's this I hear about Cousin Emmy getting married again?" a light tenor voice said. "I thought you promised that you'd wait for me, Emmy darling."  
  
Emmy turned around. A slight, blonde, hazel-eyed man stood there. "Hello, Cousin Laurence," she said. "I'd like to introduce you to my fiancée, Severus Snape."  
  
"Snape, you sly dog, congratulations," Laurence said. He turned to Emmy and said, "I could have been a Death Eater if that's what I knew you went for, cousin dear."  
  
Snape hissed, "We had some standards!"  
  
Emmy realized that there were several ways this conversation could go, none of them good. She thought, frantically, Faking appendicitis won't work, Laurence knows I've already had it out.She started to hyperventilate at the thought of Severus dealing with Laurence, and the room started swimming. Severus caught her as her knees gave way.  
  
"Knocked her up already, Snape? Quick work there," Laurence said.  
  
Emmy shook her head as she attempted to get up, and said, "Shut yer frigging gob, Laurence ye frigging nine-fingered shite hawk, and don't be frigging insulting me in me own parents' frigging house."  
  
Laurence raised his eyebrows. "Sweet cousin. I remember when we were little and your father used to wash your mouth out with soap for talking like that." Laurence pulled out his wand. "I remember the spell very well."  
  
"And now she's a woman grown and it's left to Severus to deal with her when she uses language like that," Edmund Vector said as he entered the room. "She's long past my command." Edmund glared at his wife's cousin. "I believe that Michael and some of your other cousins wish to go out pub- crawling. I would greatly appreciate it if you joined them."  
  
Laurence nodded. "As you wish. Mr. Snape, a pleasure meeting you. Cousin Emmy, I'll see you sometime." He left the room.  
  
"Hopefully at Nevermas," Emmy muttered. "Da, it's late, and Severus and I need to get back to Hogwarts. Could you make sure Laurence is gone before we say our goodbyes to everybody?"  
  
Edmund nodded, and left the room. Snape let out his breath. "I take it that you and your cousin don't exactly get along."  
  
Emmy sighed. "Usually he's all right. But every now and then, when he's between girlfriends, he takes a fancy into his head for me, and he gets very unpleasant then. Once I tell him I'm not interested, he goes away and finds another girlfriend."  
  
Snape frowned. "Then we'll have to find him a wife. I don't want him chasing after you when we're married."  
  
Emmy laughed. "Much easier said than done. Who'd want to marry that Laurence Fitzgerald?"  
  
"We'll work on it together," Snape muttered.  
  
Emmy kissed him on the cheek, and they went out to say their good- byes.  
  
End of Chapter 23 


	24. Midnight Tea

Chapter 24-Midnight Honey Vanilla Tea for Two  
  
Back at Hogwarts that evening, Snape and Vector were having a pot of herbal honey vanilla tea together in her sitting room. The fire flickered on the hearth, and it gave the only light in the room. Snape was still puzzled at Emmy's reaction to Laurence. He asked, "Emmy, why did you use such foul language when your cousin said I'd woken you up quickly?"  
  
Emmy paused with the teapot in her hand, and replied, "What are you talking about, Severus?"  
  
"He said something like, 'Knocked her up already, Snape? Quick work, that.'"  
  
Emmy set the teapot down, and frowned at the memory. "Ah, I'd forgotten. Laurence and I have both spent too much time in America, and over there, 'to knock someone up' means getting them pregnant, not 'waking them in the morning.'"  
  
"So Laurence was accusing me of getting you pregnant? And your whole family now believes that I've impregnated you out of wedlock? Absolutely wonderful," Snape muttered sarcastically. "I'd better make out a new will before your father or your brother decide to kill me."  
  
"Well, if I was pregnant, they'd have to wait to kill you until after the wedding," Emmy said. "Our child would need your name, after all." She took a sip of tea.  
  
Snape looked at her. "Our child. My child. Oh dear gods," he muttered, and buried his face in his hands.  
  
"You don't wish to have children?" Emmy asked, in a too-level tone.  
  
Snape sighed. "I never really thought about it." He leaned back in his chair, and looked at the ceiling. "I had always assumed that I would live and die a bachelor."  
  
"Well, that doesn't exempt you from having children," Emmy muttered.  
  
"And why do you say that?" Snape asked.  
  
Emmy smiled faintly. "Uncle Desmond Finnigan was a bit wild in his youth. And some of his children tracked him down a few years ago."  
  
Snape brought his chair down to all fours, and he stared at Emmy. "Are you saying that an uncle of yours has illegitimate children?"  
  
"Four of them, by four different women, all within about a year of each other," Emmy replied. "And he's still single."  
  
"Small wonder," Snape said.  
  
Emmy coughed and cleared her throat. "Let us set the matter of my wayward Uncle Desmond aside." She leaned forward, her face lit by the firelight. "Are you interested in having children, Severus?"  
  
He looked back at her. "I haven't really thought about it one way or the other."  
  
Emmy leaned back and raised her eyebrows. "Really." She took another sip of tea. "And here I thought that all the old pure-blood families cared about was reproducing, when they weren't ranting about purity."  
  
Snape sighed. "Emmy." He paused, then went on, "I don't understand your religious beliefs or your family at all, but the one thing I saw today was that your family cares about each other. All of them care about each other."  
  
Emmy said, "Even my cousin Laurence?"  
  
Severus said, "Let me correct my statement. Everyone except your cousin Laurence."  
  
Emmy threw back her head and laughed.  
  
Severus went on, "In many pure-blood families, it's very different. The children are viewed almost solely as extensions of the parents, and there is constant pressure to conform to the parental idea."  
  
Emmy nodded. "So you have families like the Weasleys who are all- Gryffindor, and families like the Malfoys and Bulstrodes who are all- Slytherin. And they all fall into the same trap of viewing their children as things rather than persons in their own right." She sighed. "I was very lucky, then. Aunts and uncles scattered throughout all four Houses, and grandparents who didn't follow that mentality of insisting the children all fit into a particular mold."  
  
"Don't all the Vectors do mathematics or Arithmancy?" Snape asked.  
  
Emmy laughed and shook her head. "Most of them have the basic talent, but there are those like Mike who want to go out and do, and mathematical ability is useful in so many fields that it opens more doors than it closes. My aunts and uncles did a wide variety of things." She looked into the fire and went on, "My Vector grandparents always said that their job was to be a rose trellis, not a straightjacket or a doormat."  
  
"Eh?" Severus said. "Come again?"  
  
Emmy smiled wryly. "A good parent provides both structure and freedom. Enough structure to support their children, and enough freedom to let them grow."  
  
"A radical idea for the pure-bloods," Severus muttered.  
  
"Oh, not just for wizards," Emmy replied evenly. "My great- grandfather Finnigan was a Muggle, and was quite as bad as any parent I've dealt with here at Hogwarts. He disowned one son of his for marrying a Protestant girl, and another for reading history instead of chemistry at university. Completely disowned them, wouldn't even acknowledge that they were still alive. My grandfather remembered it vividly. And I run into it in the Muggle world all the time as well. Parents expecting their children to be doctors when the child can't stand science, or pressuring them to break up with the person who's absolutely perfect for them, or expecting them to date someone who's absolutely horrid just because the mothers are friends."  
  
"How were your Muggle in-laws?" Severus asked.  
  
Emmy grimaced. "Control freaks and a half, as one of my brothers-in- law's girlfriends put it." She sighed. "I still remember the pre-marital conferences where the priest tried to talk to Brendon and me about parenthood. He told us that it was an enormous responsibility, that it was a position of great power, and that if we weren't a bit frightened at the prospect, we were bloody idiots."  
  
Severus raised his eyebrows. "But I take it that you and Brendon never had any children."  
  
Emmy shook her head. "No." She let out her breath between her teeth. "Sometimes I wonder if it was just as well, and sometimes I wonder if we should have started trying earlier."  
  
Severus looked at her. "Do you want children, Emmy?"  
  
She gave him a wry little smile, and nodded her head. "I would like to try to have children, at least. I know I'm a bit old for it, but I'd really like to try. And a bit sooner rather than later."  
  
Snape snorted. "Most witches can have children until their middle fifties, at least. We're a bit longer lived than those Muggles are."  
  
Emmy set her cup down. "You forget, Severus, that I am one-quarter Muggle, at least. And no one knows who my great-grandmother Vector's father was. I would really prefer not to run the risk of too many complications."  
  
"Wasn't there a rumor that your great-grandmother Vector's father was a jinn?" he asked.  
  
Vector frowned. "Where did you hear that? The family legend is that he was a ifrit. Although, mind you, I'm not entirely sure about that."  
  
Snape said, "Well, if that's the case, that counts as magical, so you're only a quarter Muggle, and you should be as long-lived as any witch."  
  
"Well, what about children, Severus?"  
  
Severus leaned back in his chair, and thought. Children. A girl that looked like Emmy, maybe two little girls. Then he remembered his first sight of the Vector family on the King's Cross platform; two little girls (Emmy was the older of those little girls, he realized now) playing tag while their older brother attempted to order them around, a third pink- wrapped bundle of a baby with dark hair and wide-open brown eyes in a short, plump, blonde's arms, and a tall, thin, dark man with his arm sometimes around the blonde woman, watching the entire scene with a smile on his face. And another memory hit; the same dark man and plump blonde, with those children, the littlest girl no longer a bundle, another little boy, and a bundle of a baby in blue in the blonde woman's arms, in a picture on the cover of the Daily Prophet. The headline, Families Devastated by Attack on Diagon Alley.  
  
More memories came back now: Michael Vector's rage during their sixth year, his disappearances from class, his hair-trigger temper inflamed to fever pitch, the shadows under his eyes, the tear tracks on his face. Dumbledore informing him that that hellish concoction he had made up on Lestrange's request was used in the August 1975 attack. All the things he had done as a Death Eater. His own parents, his mother flinching, his father screaming at her.  
  
Snape clenched his jaw. "I'm not fit to be a father to any child," he spat out.  
  
Emmy's face froze. "I see. Perhaps you should have thought of that before taking me to bed."  
  
"Weren't you using a sterility potion?" Snape asked.  
  
Emmy shook her head, and snorted. "In the first place, as I told you, I've been celibate for the last six years. What need would I have had of it? And in the second place, it's not exactly the sort of thing a good Catholic does."  
  
"Well, how the bloody devil am I supposed to know what a good Catholic does?" Snape retorted.  
  
"You're supposed to ask. And if you don't think that you're fit to be a father to any child, then you should have been the one using the sterility potion," Emmy shot back. She got up and threw open the door to the corridor. She bent down in an exaggerated curtsey, and swept her arm out. "Good night, Severus," she said.  
  
Snape tried to loom over her. "Don't you dare try to throw me out yet, Emmy. This discussion isn't nearly over."  
  
Emmy narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. "For me it is, Severus Snape." She pulled out her wand, and said, "Petrificus Totalus Una Horae." She strode over to the door to her bedroom, and threw it open, stalked through it, and banged it shut. Snape heard the bolt shoot home. "Good night, Snape," she shouted through the door.  
  
Snape stood there in her sitting room, locked in place by the temporary Petrificus Charm. One hour. One hour, and then the spell expires. I'm going to blast That Woman's bedroom door off its hinges. How dare she do this to me? He thought about what he would tell That Woman once this spell wore off. Are you entirely insane, Emmy Vector? Do you realize what could happen if we became parents? We could wind up dead or insane and have a child like Longbottom or Potter, or our children could die before us, as your siblings did. I realize you want to reclaim your status as a good Catholic wife, and I'm prepared to cooperate to some extent, but this is too much! I don't even buy a yearly subscription to the Daily Prophet, and after what happened to your siblings and your husband, you of all people should know better. You have this crazy Catholic idea that marriage and children will make everything all right. You might ask Potter and Longbottom if their parents did them any favors by bringing them into the world.  
  
The Ravenclaw and Slytherin House ghosts flittered about Snape. He stared at them, thinking, Go get me help. Get someone to lift the spell from me. The ghosts vanished, and Albus Dumbledore came running into the room. Dumbledore took one look at Snape's face, and muttered, "There's some acid distillation going on here!" Snape's eyes flashed. Dumbledore cleared his throat, waved his wand and said, "Finite Incantatem!"  
  
Snape spun around as the Petrificus Charm lifted, and went straight toward the bedroom door. Dumbledore moved to block him, and said, "Severus, don't disturb her. I have an urgent errand for you," and led him out the door, as he tried frantically to think of an errand that would keep Snape occupied all the next day.  
  
End of Chapter 24 


	25. Freaky Friday

Chapter 25  
  
Draco Malfoy in Arithmancy class on that Friday  
  
On the Friday after Halloween, Draco Malfoy stalked into the Arithmancy classroom, and slammed his books down on the desk. Professor Vector raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right, Malfoy?" she asked in a calm tone.  
  
Draco spat out, "Why should you care, you slut?"  
  
"Malfoy! I will not tolerate that sort of language in my classroom!" Vector said. She pointed her wand at him, spoke a word, and suddenly he was spitting out soap bubbles. "And a month of detention for your insolence, to be served with Filch."  
  
Draco continued to call Vector names, and finished with, "You whore! How could you do that to my father!"  
  
Vector slapped him across the face, glared at him, and snapped out, "Detention for three months, Malfoy. And you will either apologize to me here and now or leave my classroom. I will not tolerate your juvenile behavior any longer."  
  
Draco sneered back, "I'll tell my father on you."  
  
Vector curled her lip. "What makes you think I'm afraid of you? I'm not going to let your father push me around, and I certainly won't take it from you, young man. And telling your father everything is what got this whole mess started in the first place. If he hadn't known from you that I was dancing, he wouldn't have bothered to show up on Halloween night, so this is your fault, Malfoy."  
  
"Oh, I don't think that you object to the result of being with Professor Snape," Malfoy shouted back, face flushed red. "You certainly spent enough time with him that night and the next morning."  
  
"My engagement to Professor Snape and our private dealings with each other are none of your concern," Vector retorted. "Six months detention with Mr. Filch, Malfoy. And get out of my classroom until and unless you apologize to me."  
  
Draco Malfoy picked up his books and left, still snarling sotto voce and spitting out soap bubbles at every curse word.  
  
After class, Emmy got an owl from Dumbledore, and went to his office.  
  
"I understand that you had to ask Malfoy to leave your classroom today?" Dumbledore asked her.  
  
Emmy made a faint noise deep in her throat, almost a growl. "That boy was talking to me as if I were a Soho streetwalker."  
  
"He is quite upset over his father's interest in you," Dumbledore said. "And I think he had a regard for you as well."  
  
Emmy muttered, in a very Irish accent, "Oh Jaysus Christ. I'm collecting the whole frigging set of Slytherins. Draco, Lucius, and Snape. Bloody frigging wonderful." She glared at Dumbledore, and said in a very correct Oxbridge accent, "I can tell you this much, sir, he's not coming back into my classroom until and unless he apologizes to me and to the class."  
  
"I did not expect you to readmit him into the class if he did not do so," Dumbledore said. "But what about the OWLS?"  
  
Emmy blew a breath out of her mouth. "Well, I'm certainly not going to give him private tutoring, sir. As far as I'm concerned, he can go ahead and take the Arithmancy OWL, but I'm not going to teach him anything until he gets his head out of his arse."  
  
"Are there any senior students who could teach him?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Emmy frowned. "Mmm. None of the Slytherin sixth-years did all that well, and they're not taking the Advanced Arithmancy class. The seventh- years have their NEWTS to revise for. And asking a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff to teach him would be an exercise in futility. He won't bother to listen to any of them. In Ravenclaw, Chang did quite well last year, as I recall."  
  
"You think that Miss Chang should teach him and not Miss Bulstrode?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Emmy smiled tightly. "I think that Miss Bulstrode is still content to hide her light under a bushel for a little while longer. She's got her own OWLS to worry about as well. And Miss Chang is a pureblood, a scholar, and an athlete. He might have a little respect for her."  
  
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I see. Very well. I will ask Flitwick and Snape to arrange the tutoring. And Emmy, do be careful."  
  
Emmy nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
Dumbledore leaned over, and whispered, "How are the wedding plans going?"  
  
Emmy shook her head. "Not well. For one, he doesn't want children."  
  
Dumbledore frowned. "I see. You've seen him dealing with children and this surprised you?"  
  
Emmy muttered, "Well, they do say it's different with your own."  
  
Dumbledore said, "All right, let's imagine Snape dealing with a small child who's just like Snape."  
  
Emmy's mouth twitched into a faint smile.  
  
Dumbledore went on, "If you took a poll of everyone at Hogwarts, the virtually unanimous opinion would be that he hates children, and the 2% who say differently would say he likes them roasted with onions and potatoes on the side."  
  
Emmy pursed her lips, and said, "Well, I want children, and I want his children. He's just going to have to lump it."  
  
Dumbledore attempted to repress a shudder, put his face into his hands, and mumbled, "I'll have to make a note to be retired or dead before your offspring get here, as none of the genetic possibilities look good. Your looks and his temperament? Or vice versa? They definitely will have brains.and their upbringing to boot." He sighed, looked back up, and went on, loudly, "And what did you do when he told you he didn't want children?"  
  
Emmy shrugged. "I invited him to leave, he refused, and then I cast a one-hour Petrificus charm on him, went into my bedroom, and locked the door."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Very bad tactics, Emmy. You never want to give him a chance to brood on his injuries if you can possibly avoid it. It only gives him a chance to refine his cutting remarks."  
  
Emmy sighed. "All right, I'll keep that in mind." There was silence for a while.  
  
"So what will the resolution be?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Well, if he doesn't want to be a father and is, I'll wind up being a single mother, I suppose."  
  
"Is that a possibility?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Emmy sighed. "Perhaps. I'm not sure."  
  
Dumbledore's voice was cold. "Really. May I remind you that your contract has a morals clause?"  
  
Emmy snapped, "Let's consider whom you've hired as Defense professors over the last four years. Having Voldemort growing out of the back of one's head is rather more serious than me bearing a child out of wedlock."  
  
Dumbledore retorted, "Well, as long as you can keep the baby covered with a turban, there won't be any problem."  
  
She started laughing at first, bitter, hollow laughter, and then it turned into crying. Dumbledore handed her a handkerchief, and she mopped her face with it. Emmy compressed her lips together. "He said that he was unfit to be a father, Albus." She closed her mouth again, stared into the fire, and shook her head. "It's not going to work. We're too different, and he doesn't understand any of my beliefs. I'll have to break the engagement quietly. Maybe pick a few dozen more fights with him so that he agrees to call it off." She swallowed, and tried to suppress the tears from starting again.  
  
Meanwhile, Snape was in his quarters, and talking to Father Sorin once again about Emmy.  
  
"You told her that you did not want to have children? That you would be an unfit father? You imbecile of a pig!" Father Sorin was acting and sounding very French at the moment.  
  
"What should I have told her? Should I have lied to her?"  
  
"You stupid nitwit! She told you she wanted to try to have children!"  
  
"So now she's angry with me because she wants children and I don't," Snape drawled.  
  
"Not only is she angry, but she could refuse to marry you and it would be perfectly justified," Father Sorin growled. "And me, I would back her up on it."  
  
"I thought you were on my side, dammit," Snape retorted. "Why are you changing your mind?"  
  
"Because you do not have the faintest comprehension of what the end of marriage is, you stupid Slytherin!" Father Sorin said.  
  
Snape made a very rude gesture, and responded, "Sod off, you bloody idiot ghost."  
  
"Sacre bleu! I tell you, Snape, that the goodness of marriage consists of faithfulness, openness to offspring or life, and the sacrament of permanence, and so far you have bungled two out of three!"  
  
"I have not bungled two out of three," Snape said. "I have only bungled one so far."  
  
"Kissing her brother is not a bungle of faithfulness? " Father Sorin shook his head. "You Slytherins may have ambition, but you are all as stupid as stumps when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex."  
  
"Oh, really. So how do I get myself out of this one, O Wise Hufflepuff?" Snape dryly asked him.  
  
"Grovel. Plead, beg, say that you were overcome with shock and weren't thinking clearly. Say that you will reconsider your position."  
  
"Give in right away and lie and tell her, yes I want half-a-dozen children, that I want to attempt to outdo the Weasleys?" Snape replied sarcastically.  
  
"Bah. She's too smart to believe that. But tell her that you will, oh 'work through your issues about fatherhood' is I believe how they would say it these days," Father Sorin said.  
  
Snape snorted. "What issues about fatherhood?"  
  
Father Sorin glared back at him. "Men and women naturally wish to reproduce, to have children. The ones that don't - well, they have no children, and so the heritable instinct is to have children. So therefore, if a person does not wish to have children, there is something that happened to that person that drowns out the natural instinct."  
  
Snape shook his head. "Preposterous. It's irresponsible to have children in a war."  
  
Father Sorin shouted, "I was around here when the Black Death was killing off half of England, and people were still having children then! It's no excuse! The world is never going to be a safe place to have children. You have children in the hope that you can make things better, and that's just the way things are. And what makes you think that you're unfit to be a father?"  
  
Snape glared at the Friar. "Father Sorin, I contributed materially to the death of all her younger siblings, two sisters and two brothers, and the youngest was less than a year old. The other deaths I am responsible for in that attack were her aunt, her cousins, and many other innocent people, and this attack happened by the time I was sixteen years old. I swore allegiance to the most evil wizard of modern times, I poisoned and tortured and killed people as though they were laboratory animals, no, worse than laboratory animals. My own father hated me, and constantly called me a sniveling weakling."  
  
He was face-to-face with Father Sorin now, and continued, "And you think that a man like me deserves to be a father? That he can stay around young innocent children and not corrupt them? That some little girl will have the right to call him 'father,' and bring him her dolls to fix?" He shook his head. "I can't do it, Father Sorin, I can't. Emmy Vector deserves better than to have me father her children."  
  
Father Sorin looked back at him. "Justice is getting what you deserve, mercy is not getting what you deserve, and grace is getting what you do not deserve. And sacraments are instruments of grace, so you always get what you do not deserve from them."  
  
"So I don't deserve her, but I should go after her anyway? And what the hell do I do about my involvement in the murder of her family?"  
  
"Confess to her and do penance," Father Sorin promptly replied. "And think about your father's mistakes with you, and resolve and act to correct them with your own children." Father Sorin swirled around Snape. "Go ask Emmy Vector to teach you how to pray, Severus Snape." And the Friar vanished.  
  
End of Chapter 25 


	26. We Are Family

Chapter 26 - Mike and Emmy have a civilized talk  
  
Millie Bulstrode smiled to herself as she sat and revised her Arithmancy in Professor Vector's study. Emmy Vector gave the girl a proprietary glance. She really seems to be enjoying herself. I'd better watch it that she doesn't try to earn detention with me more often. Someone knocked on the door; it sounded familiar somehow. If it's Snape, best that I have a witness, so that I won't break down completely before I start the argument.  
  
"Come in," Emmy said. Michael Vector came into the room. "Hello, Emmy, Miss Bulstrode," he said. Millie beamed at him, and he smiled back at her. Emmy leaned back on the sofa to watch.  
  
"How are you lovely ladies today?" Mike asked.  
  
"Just fine, thank you," Emmy replied.  
  
"Are you all recovered from the shock of the Dementor, Miss Bulstrode?" Mike asked.  
  
She blushed and nodded. "Perfectly fine, thank you, Auror Vector. And yourself?'  
  
Mike sighed, and said, "Well, I've been better. I'm on light duty for the next couple of weeks. Although I feel much better for the sight of you."  
  
Millie cast her eyes down, and a triumphant grin stole across her face.  
  
Mike heaved out a sigh. "My dear Miss Bulstrode, I do need to speak privately with my sister. Could I possibly see you again afterwards?"  
  
Millie looked up to face him. Her smile broadened, and she replied, "Yes, Auror Vector. I'd like to find out more information on the requirements to become an Auror." Millie got up, and Mike did as well. He kissed her hand.  
  
"Until later, Miss Bulstrode," he said.  
  
"Professor Vector, is my detention complete?" Millie asked, as Mike continued to hold onto her hand.  
  
Emmy looked at the clock. "Why don't we say that it's halfway done, and I'm giving you a break before I have you give Auror Vector more of a tour as completion of your detention? And you can tell that to Professor Snape if he has any questions."  
  
Millie chuckled. "You're the best professor to serve detention with at this entire school, Professor Vector."  
  
Emmy shrugged. "Tastes differ. Malfoy might have a different opinion."  
  
Millie laughed outright as she nodded to the Vector siblings and made her leave. Mike Vector's glance followed Millicent Bulstrode as she walked out of his sister's study and shut the door behind her. He set a folder down on his sister's desk. Emmy nodded. It was probably more data for her computer simulations, and they didn't really need to talk about it.  
  
"Malfoy might have a different opinion? What happened?" Mike asked.  
  
Emmy grimaced. "Insolent little brat. He's still in a snit about his father making advances on me, and he took it out on me last Friday. I gave him detention and a mouth full of soap bubbles for showing disrespect to a teacher, and kicked him out of class until he apologizes."  
  
Mike chuckled. "You used Da's soap-mouth hex on him?"  
  
"A good old Vector family tradition," Emmy said.  
  
"I guess that you're keeping up more Vector family traditions than I am. Sorry about the scene the other day with Snape and all," Mike Vector said to his sister.  
  
"Mmm. The 'wildly inappropriate and scandalous spouse' tradition?" Emmy replied.  
  
"Yes. I fear that I'm going to wind up an elderly Irish bachelor."  
  
"Well, you've still got a few years yet. About five to seven years or so to find someone, if we go by Great-Grandfather Solomon Vector."  
  
"But Emmy, that was back in eighteen-eighty!"  
  
"So? Why ruin a perfectly good family tradition?"  
  
Mike sighed. "I'll never find someone." He shook his head and sat down on Emmy's couch. He started mumbling, "All the women I know are too fluffy and dainty, too small for a man to take a good grip of. And all so damned independent."  
  
"The problem with you, brother dear, is that you were born a few hundred years too late. You should have been around in the Founders' era." Emmy poured her brother a shot of whiskey and handed it to him. He downed it in one swig. She poured him another.  
  
"Well, it's damned hard these days to find a pretty little thing who needs some dragons slain for her."  
  
"Not all the dragons these days have wings, brother, nor did they ever even in the Founders' day." Emmy took a shot of whiskey herself. It was much easier to talk to Mike when she was partially anesthetized.  
  
"True. And the dragons that walk on two legs are the best ones to hunt." His eyes brightened. Oh God, not another Auror brag-fest, Emmy thought. She quickly poured him another shot.  
  
"Does your prodigy Bulstrode have an older sister?" Mike asked her after downing his third shot and accepting a fourth.  
  
"I don't think so. I think that it's all brothers in that family. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Oh, no real reason, I suppose. I just thought that she was cute and I wondered if there were any more like her at home."  
  
Emmy Vector pondered the thought of Millicent Bulstrode being considered "cute." Only my brother, she thought. Only my clueless brother could consider her cute.  
  
"Which House is she in, Emmy? Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff?"  
  
Emmy paused for a moment, nonplussed. Didn't he see her uniform tie? Or notice what colors it was? "Actually, she's in Slytherin, like the rest of her family." Emmy replied.  
  
"Oh. Slytherin. Pity. Shame to see such a fine girl in such a pit of vipers. Does she have much problem with them, Emmy?"  
  
"With her classmates. well, that's in my hands and Professor Snape's, not yours." Emmy took a sip of whiskey. "With her family.I think so, but there's not that much I can actively do about it unless she asks for help."  
  
"Why doesn't her boyfriend do something?" Mike asked her.  
  
"She doesn't have a boyfriend, Mike," Emmy replied.  
  
"What do you mean she doesn't have a boyfriend? The male students here can't all be gay, can they?"  
  
Emmy stared blankly at her brother, and shook her head. "No, they're not all gay, but none of them find her attractive."  
  
"Humph. Stupid gits don't know what they're missing," Mike mumbled. He cleared his throat. "Well, if she ever asks for help and I can do anything about it, let me know. I'll go slay some two-legged dragons for her."  
  
Emmy looked at her brother. "Mike, are you really serious about this, or is this just the whiskey talking?"  
  
Mike Vector's brown eyes were hard and cold as he stared back at his sister. "This is serious, Mary Elizabeth Fatima," he told her. "She's pretty and she's a genius and I'm damned if I see another innocent lost to those stinking Death Eater terrorists. I will do anything to keep her out of their clutches. Anything."  
  
Emmy flinched, fell silent and started to think. Mike's use of her baptismal name showed just how seriously riled he was. And it also shows that he's serious about his opinion of Bulstrode's physical charms. My God. Who would ever have thought it on Lady Day in Harvest? Me knowing that Bulstrode is a mathematical genius, and my brother thinking that she's pretty? I wonder if the Vector family tradition will kick in for Mike after all? Twenty-year age difference, that's about right for a Vector eldest son. And what could be more inappropriate in this time than a Death Eater pureblood sixteen-year-old Slytherin girl, and a thirty-six-year-old part-Muggle Auror Ravenclaw Irishman?  
  
"I'll keep that in mind, Michael. And thank you."  
  
"You're welcome, " he replied.  
  
After a long silence, Emmy cleared her throat. "You weren't really interested in her older sister, were you? You were interested in her."  
  
Mike sighed. "Yes, but I'm too damn old for her. Old enough to be her father if I had started early enough. She can't possibly want a broken- down bloke like me. A pretty girl like her should be with someone her own age."  
  
Emmy decided that she had to be brutal to break through her brother's stupidity field. "The boys her own age call her the Troll."  
  
Mike choked on his whiskey. "You can't possibly be serious. A fine girl like her? What the hell do they put in the water here at Hogwarts?"  
  
Emmy shook her head. "Mike. She has been taller and stronger than practically everyone else, male and female, in her year for the past four years. That's starting to change now that her male classmates are hitting their growth spurts, but it still doesn't erase the past." Her voice grew very cold. "And these stupid Slytherins think that just because she's got some non-human ancestry and the height and size from it, that she's as dumb as a Troll or a Giant. Which is patently not true to anyone who bothers to find out, but her classmates couldn't even be bothered. They all think that she's big, dumb, mean and destined to be a Death Eater."  
  
"You can't possibly be serious," Mike whispered.  
  
Emmy slammed her shot glass down on the end table. "Jaysus Christ, Mike, I didn't even frigging bother to figure it out, and I'm her frigging teacher! Dammitall, I'm not supposed to fall into those frigging traps!" She looked at the shot glass, then knocked it onto the floor, where it shattered. Emmy started to cry, and clenched her teeth. "I didn't catch it, Mike. Two years the girl has been in my classes, and I didn't figure her out. She could have been lost entirely."  
  
Mike held his sister as she cried, and made soothing, reassuring noises. "It's all right, Emmykins. It's all right, mavoureen. She's not lost yet, and won't be if I have anything to say about it." Emmy continued crying. "I'm here for the both of you now, and we won't let her settle for anything less." He rocked her as he talked. "We'll bring her home to Ma and the clan Vector, and charm her over to the side of the light. And I'll be her knight in shining armor and live with her happily ever after."  
  
Emmy snorted. "What do you think Ma's going to say when we bring her home?"  
  
Mike replied, "Well, she seemed to be cordial enough to your Snape, after all."  
  
Emmy shook her head. "Seemed is the operative word, brother dear. She was giving him the standard welcome, but I don't doubt that she'd be quite upset to find out that he was a Death Eater."  
  
"Well, neither of us is getting any younger. Ma will be happy that we're finding someone at all."  
  
Emmy sighed. "If we ever do settle down."  
  
Mike looked at his sister. "Is that bastard Snape giving you any problems?"  
  
Emmy sighed. "He's not exactly in agreement with the standard Catholic teaching on having children."  
  
"Oh, so then you can get out of this. Excellent," Mike replied. "I'll drink to that!"  
  
"Mike!" Emmy said.  
  
Mike shrugged. "Can't blame me, after all. The idea of you getting married to that greasy git of a Death Eater turns my stomach."  
  
Emmy shook her head. "Honestly, Michael. I've never taken your advice before in my life; what makes you think I'm going to start now?"  
  
Mike smiled faintly. "Because you're getting older and wiser and finally able to admit that I'm right at least some of the time?"  
  
"Bugger that for a game of soldiers, Mike," Emmy replied, as she threw a pillow at him. He threw it back at her, and she scooped it back up and threw it back at him. He caught it and aimed it back at her. It missed, and she grabbed another pillow and threw it at him. He summoned the other pillow to him, and threw both of them at his sister at once. Emmy dodged one, but not the other, which burst and sent feathers flying everywhere. Mike started laughing, and Emmy transferred all the feathers to her brother with a flick of her wand and a word. Then she started laughing, as he looked rather like a molting six-foot, seven-inch tall post owl. Mike moved his wand, and the feathers went flying back at his sister, but she blocked them with a spell of her own.  
  
When Millie Bulstrode and Severus Snape entered the room, they saw Mike and Emmy Vector trying to hit each other with a cloud of feathers, and four strange ghosts darting around, in and out of the cloud. Then the ghosts looked back at the two Slytherins, and vanished.  
  
"Who were the ghosts who were playing with you?" Millie Bulstrode asked.  
  
Emmy frowned. "Ghosts? We didn't see any ghosts, did you, Mike?"  
  
Michael Vector shook his head. "I didn't see any either. What did they look like, Miss Bulstrode?"  
  
Snape frowned. "I saw four ghosts dressed in the uniforms of about ten or so years ago, but we didn't have anyone die in those years. And there was one ghost from each House."  
  
Millie let out a gasp. "I didn't see that at all! They looked just like these children in the picture!"  
  
Snape and the Vector siblings turned white when they saw Millie Bulstrode looking at the Vector family picture from Christmas 1974.  
  
End of Chapter 26 


	27. Tradition!

Chapter 27  
  
Millicent sounds out Emmy about Mike  
  
Snape cleared his throat after looking at the Vector family picture. "Emmy, I think that Miss Bulstrode should serve the rest of her detention with you, and not with Auror Vector. Despite his undoubted courage, he is not a member of the Hogwarts staff, and thus not qualified to supervise a detention."  
  
Emmy looked at the two men. Mike's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, and he was glaring at Snape. Snape, in turn, had a fine sneer on his face, and his hand was ready on his wand.  
  
Best not to trigger a fight just yet. Particularly not between these two men; I like my quarters in one piece, thank you very much. "Very well then," she said.  
  
"Auror Vector, I need to speak with you privately," Snape said. The two men left, leaving Millie and Emmy in Emmy's study. Emmy let out a hiss of a breath, and muttered, "Toxic testosterone levels."  
  
Millie smirked, and made a noise that could have been interpreted as either a laugh or a cough.  
  
"All right, Miss Bulstrode. Back to work," Emmy said. Millie sat down at the table, and kept working on Arithmancy. Emmy sat down at her desk, and proceeded to work on her graphs for her next meeting with Dumbledore.  
  
"Is your brother married, Professor Vector?" Millie Bulstrode asked Emmy Vector as they worked.  
  
Emmy looked up. "Ha! No, he is not. He's most decidedly single because of family tradition and that he can't find a woman to put up with him."  
  
"So no girlfriends or anything?" Millie couldn't believe her ears, or her luck. That big, strong, tall, dark man is single? Oh, Merlin!  
  
"Yes. He is single, he is not attached in any way, shape or form."  
  
"I-I-I hope this isn't too personal, but he-he-he-"  
  
"He's not interested in men, either, if that's what you're trying to ask," Emmy replied.  
  
Millie let out a breath of relief. "So why is such a dishy Auror like your brother still single?"  
  
Emmy paused for a moment of severe cognitive dissonance. My brother as a dishy Auror. She shook her head to clear it of that appalling concept. I thought that Bulstrode was intelligent. Ah well, no accounting for tastes. "The general perception among most of his female acquaintances is that my brother is the most insufferable prat that they know. One of the great mysteries of my life is why Mike was Sorted into Ravenclaw when he's such a complete example of the perfect Gryffindork."  
  
Millie giggled at this. "I thought that as a Ravenclaw you liked the Gryffindorks, Professor Vector."  
  
"As students, as fellow colleagues, yes, but as a bossy, know-it-all, overbearing older brother, no," Emmy replied.  
  
"But it must be nice to have a caring older brother."  
  
"I suppose. Although I still blame him for the fact that I didn't have a date until I was a seventh-year myself, because of how he terrified all the boys when I was a first-year."  
  
"Oh, boys are idiots, all of them. I think it's better to wait for a real man myself."  
  
Emmy was stunned into silence by that remark, and then the blossoming perception in her mind. I have missed half of the Vector family dynamic all these years. The men don't just find an inappropriate woman and fall in love; they apparently send out some sort of signal that makes inappropriate women fall hard for them. And that is part of why my mother and father are still together.  
  
"Well, Millie, Mike is not the sharpest athame on the altar himself," Emmy cautiously continued. How do I do this, give her a fair picture of him without scaring her away?  
  
"Oh, I know that, Professor Vector," Millie replied. "I know that he's book smart and not people smart." She looked Emmy straight in the eyes as she continued, "But I also know that he's got a heart of fire and a backbone of granite."  
  
"And the fact that he's taller than you are is probably a pleasant change," Emmy continued dryly after an uncomfortable pause.  
  
Millie started to laugh. "Oh, you have absolutely no idea, Professor Vector. He makes me feel dainty and tiny and frail. Me, Bulstrode-the- Troll." She shook her head. "I have never felt this way before around any man. It's absolutely delightful."  
  
"Hmm. Well, if you're having these feelings about him, I had better warn you about some of the Vector family traditions."  
  
"Oh, no. What are these, ma'am?"  
  
"Well, the first one is that Vectors do not divorce. Not ever. If you marry a Vector man, it is for life. The second tradition is that Vector men will abandon their past ties if they believe that to be the right course of action, but they also expect you to do the same for them. And the third Vector tradition is that the eldest sons always wind up making a wildly inappropriate and scandalous marriage."  
  
Millie was looking a bit upset now. "Inappropriate and scandalous? How?" And is my Death Eater family going to matter to him?  
  
Emmy smiled. "Let's wet our whistles and I'll tell you some of my family history, Millie." Emmy got up and poured two glasses of wine. The two women sat down on the couch together.  
  
Emmy leaned back and said, "Ahh, this is more comfortable. Now, let me begin with my great-grandfather Solomon Vector. He was born around 1840 to a Jewish wizarding family in Germany."  
  
"Eighteen-forty? Your great-grandfather? That can't be right." Millie said. The wine was delicious, but it was going to her head fairly quickly. She thought, But still, twenty-five years as a generation means three generations back, seventy-five years from 1960 means 1880s, not 1840s!  
  
"Yes. 1840. He was interested in Arithmancy, and after Durmstrang went to Egypt to go study with the wizards there, where he eventually met and ran off with a fourteen-year old Muslim dancing girl named Fatima, in the year eighteen-eighty."  
  
"He was forty and she was fourteen?" Millie gasped.  
  
"Or fifteen. Something like that. I gather that Great-Grandmother Fatima was never too sure of her own age. She was illegitimate and supported her aged mother and her siblings in whatever way she could. Solomon was impressed by her grit and insisted on marrying her."  
  
Millie thought, And she probably wasn't a pureblood witch, either. That thought didn't bother her as much as it would have a year ago.  
  
Emmy continued, "Their eldest son, Abraham Vector, was born that same year, was privately tutored, and wound up moving to England as a young man, where he worked for Gringotts Bank." She frowned. "Are you aware of the Muggle First World War, and the Muggle attitudes of the time?"  
  
"Yes," Millie replied.  
  
Emmy took a sip and went on. "Abraham was still living in England when the war started. At some point during the war, he met a young witch named Edith Bones, who was born in 1899. They married in 1919."  
  
"Bones? Any relation to Susan?" Millie asked.  
  
"Yes, but I'd have to chart out on paper exactly how. And yes, she was a Hogwarts graduate, and a Hufflepuff."  
  
"Go on," Millie said.  
  
"Abraham's eldest son, Edmund, my father, was born in 1920, and went to Hogwarts. Ravenclaw House, of course. In 1959, he married my mother, Aoife Finnigan, born 1944. My Grandfather Finnigan is a Muggle, and my Grandmother Finnigan is a Squib."  
  
"You're related to Seamus Finnigan?"  
  
"Yes, through my grandfather and his father. This is Hogwarts; everyone's connected somehow."  
  
Millie thought that was very funny, and wound up almost choking on her wine.  
  
"So what's the trend, Bulstrode?" Professor Vector asked as she stared at the ceiling.  
  
Millie took a deep breath. "Vector oldest sons are cradle-snatchers, and they marry girls who are on the wrong side." Like me. He's an Auror and my family is nothing but a bunch of Death Eaters.  
  
She hadn't been aware that she had said that last thought openly until Professor Vector smiled back at her.  
  
"You're probably my brother's ideal woman, Millicent. He's always fancied himself in the role of white knight and dragon-slayer, and I think that some of the friction between him and me has been due to the fact that I've never really wanted that."  
  
Millie was staring back at Emmy in total shock. "You can't possibly be serious," she whispered.  
  
"About what? Him and you, or him and me?"  
  
"Him and me. I-I-I can't believe it. It's n-not possible." I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.  
  
Emmy let out a breath between clenched jaws. "Let's see if I can recall everything he said."  
  
As Emmy talked, Millicent took it in like a desert taking in a rainstorm. I have a chance with him. I actually have a chance. He thinks I'm pretty. He thinks I'm a genius. He wants to save me from joining the Death Eaters. Oh, Merlin. Oh, my God.  
  
Michael Vector and Severus Snape were having quite the argument in Snape's office. "Vector, what the bloody devil are you playing at, flirting with that girl?" Snape spat. "It's disgusting. She's far too young for you."  
  
Mike glared at Snape. "I could say much the same sort of thing about you and my sister, Snape."  
  
"That's entirely different. There's only six years between Emmy and me. Your sister is old enough and experienced enough to know her own mind. Miss Bulstrode is a minor and I stand in loco parentis to her as her Head of House."  
  
Mike retorted, "The same House where she gets called a troll by everyone because she's taller and stronger than the rest? The same House where she has to hide her brains from everybody, lest she be put on Voldemort's A-list for recruiting? The House that is willing to lick Voldemort's boots for him, and bend over and spread them whenever he asks for it?"  
  
"And of course you perfect clever Ravenclaws know all about being the targets of prejudice and evil." Snape retorted.  
  
"My Aunt Dorothy Vector says that at times she's ashamed to be a Slytherin, after seeing what's happened to her House since she left school," Mike shouted.  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered, "Well, I can see that the House doesn't come up to the standards of someone who's hiding from the world and calling herself a Bride of Christ."  
  
Mike said, "What do you mean calling herself?"  
  
Snape said, "I meant that I'm not a believer, but since you're the one putting a sexual interpretation on what goes on in Slytherin House, I suppose there's no telling what you might be projecting on your aunt's convent."  
  
Mike hissed, "You filthy son-of-a-bitch!" and went for Snape, but the desk was in the way.  
  
Snape retorted, "I'm not the one chasing a sixteen-year-old girl."  
  
Mike tried to hit Snape, but Snape's wards went off and slowed Mike's punch down. Mike's fist made no contact whatsoever with Snape. Snape sneered, "You thought it would be a good idea to practice fisticuffs with me in the office where I deal with emotionally unstable adolescents?"  
  
Mike glared at him. "I'll get Millie out of this snake-pit if it's the last thing I ever do." He turned and headed for the door.  
  
Snape sneered, "I like the sound of that. Last thing you ever do."  
  
Mike turned back around and said, "Are you threatening me?"  
  
Snape said, "I wouldn't threaten a man who can attack a Dementor bare- handed. It would be like installing smoke detectors in Hell."  
  
Mike took one step toward him and said, "You'd know all about Hell, wouldn't you, Snape?"  
  
Snape said, "Mike, shut it. Your sister won't let me kill you, and it's possible that Miss Bulstrode might even have some objections. But I will look out for Miss Bulstrode's best interests, so you had best watch your step."  
  
Mike retorted, as he stood close to the door, "I killed a Dementor for Miss Bulstrode, and I care more about her now than I did then. Watch your step yourself, Snape." Mike tried to slam the door on the way out, but it shut silently. Snape smirked at that final little victory. Then he looked at the clock. Past midnight on a Friday, and Emmy was surely in her cold, lonesome bed already.  
  
End of Chapter 27 


	28. Saturday Confession

Chapter 28 Saturday in Confession  
  
Emmy Vector touched her hand to the holy water font as she entered the Hogwarts Catholic chapel, and signed herself with the Cross and water in the ancient Catholic ritual. She touched her forehead, breastbone, left shoulder, right shoulder with wet fingertips. In nomine Patrii et Filii et Spiritui Sancti Amen.  
  
She let out a puff of breath as she stared at the confessional. This was going to be one of the worst ones of her entire life, about as bad as the one after she had killed those Death Eaters. She knocked on the confessional box door. Silence. No one in it, then. She put a hand to the confessional door, and pulled it open. Father Sorin had a routine; he was here every Saturday from 9-10 am and again from 4-5 pm in case anyone wanted to do a formal confession with him. In most other churches, there would have been a little set of red and green lights to let people know the priest was here and that the confessional box was occupied, but this was Hogwarts, with no electricity.  
  
Emmy stepped into the confessional, closed the door behind her, and knelt down on the prie-dieu, facing the screen between her and Father. It was so much easier to confess with at least the pretense of anonymity.  
  
Emmy cleared her throat, and said, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."  
  
"Good morning, my daughter," Father Sorin said.  
  
Emmy went on with the ritual words, "My last confession was oh, five weeks ago."She swallowed, and said, "Since then, I have committed fornication with my fiancé three times, wanted to break my sworn word to him that we would marry, inspired a married man to attempt to commit adultery with me, been ready to kill said married man, been angry with my fiancé, the Headmaster, and my students, hit one of my students across the face, taken the name of God in vain about, oh, fifty times, used foul language, failed to introduce my fiancé to my family until he forced me to do so, am encouraging a relationship between my brother and one of my students, corrected homework on Sunday, and performed a lascivious dance in public. And for all these sins and for all the sins I cannot remember, I am heartily sorry."  
  
She heard a sigh from Father Sorin on the other side of the grille. "Let us take a moment together to thank God for the graces He has given you in your life, and for the invitation to confession, and for the gift of a good and thoughtful confession." He sighed and went on, "The sins of taking the name of the Lord thy God in vain, not keeping the Sabbath, not honoring your parents, the sin of anger, and the sin of lust."  
  
"Yes, Father," Emmy whispered.  
  
She heard another sigh. "On the issue of anger: My daughter, I know you have a temper, and we have been through this before. Now, I know that you've got a bit of berserker in you, but you still have to control it, and do the best that you can. On the foul language and the swearing, pay more attention to your language, and talk like an English lady rather than an Irish fishwife."  
  
Emmy let out a ghost of a laugh. "That's exactly what my father always says to me."  
  
"Your father is a wise man," Father Sorin replied. "And on the correcting homework; I know you're busy and officially working two jobs. But do try to give yourself some time for rest and worship."  
  
"Yes, Father," Emmy said.  
  
"Honoring your family; remember that they love you, and that you love them, and be always ready to forgive them and say that you are sorry for your own sins. And who is the young lady you're trying to match with your brother?"  
  
"Miss Millicent Bulstrode, Father," Emmy said.  
  
Father Sorin went on, "Mmm. And what are your and your brother's intentions?"  
  
"Mine are honorable, and I believe my brother's are honorable as well."  
  
"Well, I'll speak to Miss Bulstrode. Don't abuse your power over her, but don't cut yourself off from her, either. Don't neglect your other students for her, either. And on the topic of lust, I have a great deal to say."  
  
Emmy cringed and briefly buried her face in her hands.  
  
Father Sorin said, "First, stay away from Lucius Malfoy, as he's a nasty piece of work. That wasn't your fault this time, but be more careful before you make any stupid bets or deliver on them. Ensure your own safety, daughter." He went on, "Second, when you chose to have intercourse with your fiancé, you committed yourself to him for life. Men can be hurt just as badly as women can by being loved and left. You would break your sworn word and your vows to him if you left, just as your first husband broke his vows to you."  
  
Emmy flinched and gulped. "Yes, Father."  
  
He drifted through the grille and circled to Emmy's right. "And, finally, on the issue of Snape being a father, he's lasted this long without giving any hostages to fortune! He's just getting used to the idea of taking you on, and you're used to defending yourself. If he wasn't terrified at the thought of having someone completely dependent and helpless that he's responsible for, I'd tell you to check his pulse! You rushed your fences far too quickly."  
  
Emmy's eyes grew wide. "Well, but what if I am pregnant?" she said.  
  
Father Sorin groaned. "That's why we tell you women to stay out of the man's bed until after the wedding, and he's had some time to adjust to all this!" He sighed, and continued, "Emmy, you don't owe the rest of your family babies. When it's time, God will send you this blessing, so don't rush God. It's God's will and grace, and not a matter of paying off an overdue debt, or about the satisfying of carnal appetites. "  
  
Emmy got a reminiscent look in her eye at the last.  
  
Father Sorin frowned, and said, "Part of your penance, my child, is to go drink the juice of three lemons, to take the smile off your face."  
  
Emmy dipped her head, and said, embarrassed, "Is it that obvious?"  
  
Father Sorin replied tartly, "I'm celibate and I've been dead since the thirteenth century. And I can tell. Yes, it is that obvious." Emmy blushed more deeply, and hid her face in her hands. "And for your further penance, I also want you to say three full rosaries, the Divine Praises, the Litany of the Most Holy Name of Jesus, the Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and the Litany of All Saints."  
  
"Yes, Father," Emmy said.  
  
"And try not to panic your intended bridegroom anymore, at least before the wedding! He's had a lot dumped on him in a very short time; marriage, conversion and now the possibility of offspring!"  
  
Emmy blushed and nodded.  
  
Father Sorin gave her a piercing look. "Good. And now, make an Act of Contrition, for your sins."  
  
Emmy cleared her throat, and chanted, "O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy Grace, to confess my sins, do penance and to amend my life. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."  
  
Father Sorin said, in the close to the ritual, "And through the ministry of the Church and the power vested in me, may God grant you pardon and peace. Ego te absolvo in nomine Patrii et Filii et Spiritui Sancti," he said, as he traced a cross in the air, and Emmy crossed herself again, "I absolve you from all your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Go in peace, my daughter, and try to behave yourself."  
  
Emmy said, "Yes, Father. Thank you, Father." She got up from the prie- dieu, left the confessional, and headed toward the main altar. Father Sorin drifted after her. "I'll say the Litanies and Divine Praises with you, my daughter."  
  
Severus Snape was quite irritated when Emmy Vector failed to show up for both the noon and the evening meal. I think that she's supposed to be here this weekend. But it's easier to get blood from a stone than information out of her. That Woman is harder to keep track of than an entire herd of Demiguises. He used the Designo me Charm, and wound up in the corridor by the Catholic chapel again. He heard more chanting in Latin, with Emmy's voice answering Father Sorin's. There was a plate out in the hall, with three lemons on it, cut in half and squeezed out.  
  
He opened the door of the chapel, and went in. Emmy was kneeling on the floor in front of the main altar again. He silently walked up the aisle, and offered her his arm. She got up slowly with his assistance. He pulled out the throat drops and administered the potion.  
  
He said, "I should get you some knee pads."  
  
She said, "We won't need them as much after we get married."  
  
Snape smirked at that, and had a bit of a coughing fit. He went on, "So you've been on your knees all day and wearing out your voice. What is an intelligent woman like you doing letting this dead man telling you what to do? This is one of those weird Catholic things again, isn't it?"  
  
Emmy glared at him, and replied, "Yes, and I've also been drinking lemon juice as part of my penance."  
  
Snape raised his eyebrow, and asked, "Is that supposed to take the sin from your soul?"  
  
Emmy shrugged. "Father Sorin said it was to take the smile off my face."  
  
Snape gave her a slow smirk. He said, "Oh really? How many lemons? Only one?"  
  
Emmy shook her head, and replied, "One for each time, Severus."  
  
Snape remembered seeing the plate with its three lemons cut in half, and grinned. He put his arm around her shoulder, and said, "They do sell lemon juice by the quart in Hogsmeade, my dear."  
  
Emmy started laughing, and said, "Severus, I just got out of confession, and I'd really like to make it to Mass next morning without needing to go again beforehand."  
  
Snape calmly said, "Well, let's Apparate to a Sunday Mass somewhere, and then come back here. It must be Sunday somewhere in the world, correct?"  
  
Emmy laughed again. "Severus, it's 'go and sin no more', not 'you're paid up, carry on!'"  
  
Snape retorted, "I must say, the sacrament of penance is greatly overrated."  
  
Emmy dissolved into a fit of giggles at that, and said, "You must have read a misprinted Bible, one that said 'sin on more.'"  
  
He laughed at that and escorted her out of the chapel and into the corridor. Her arm was around him, and his arm was around her shoulder. He said, "What did you tell me about the just man?" He leaned over and kissed her earlobe. He could smell her perfume when he did that, all spicy and pleasant.  
  
"Severus!"  
  
Snape turned her so that she was trapped against the wall. He said, "I'm not asking for seventy times seven a day," and he kissed her neck where it showed above her robes.  
  
Emmy gasped. "Good, because I could not physically stand that, "she took in another sharp breath as he kissed her again in that same spot, "even if you could physically manage it."  
  
Snape took a deep breath. A challenge. "Well, there are Potions."  
  
Emmy interrupted, "I don't even want to think about it!"  
  
Snape ignored her, and continued, "But there are unfortunate side effects. You know how Pepper-Up Potion makes smoke come out of your ears?"  
  
Emmy tried to suppress her laughter, and failed miserably. Her face was red. "That's not necessary, Severus. Really. I'd be satisfied with much, much less."  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Satisfied? I'd like to do a damn sight better than merely satisfied."  
  
Emmy blushed even redder. Snape's hands slid down her shoulders, her arms, and then to her hands. He rubbed her palms with his thumbs, and brought her hands up to his lips. He kissed them slowly and deliberately. Emmy closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of his warm lips against her cool hands. "Sated, now, would be a lot more enjoyable, for the both of us, I think."  
  
Emmy's breath grew raspy. She opened her eyes, and started shaking her head. "Severus, " she gasped out, and then started opening and closing her mouth rapidly, trying to form words. "We are playing with lightning here. I can't go to bed with you again until we're married, I just can't."  
  
"But do you want to, Emmy dear? Do you find me tempting? Do you want to break all those Catholic rules with me? To roll around with the Slytherin snake, hmm?"  
  
Emmy nodded, and whispered, "God help me, yes, Severus." She swallowed. "But I want to keep my promises to you, and to God, as well."  
  
He said, "I see." He dropped her hands, and turned away with a swirl of his cloak. Emmy sighed and took a step toward him. He wheeled around and caught her again, and gave her a kiss on the mouth, another one of those take-no-prisoners ones. He let her go and set her down on the floor. "Pleasant dreams, Emmy, while you're alone in your holy, chaste, cold, lonely bed up in the Ravenclaw eyrie. I'll be down in my bedroom, thinking about you on Halloween night and All Hallows morning."  
  
She backed away from him as he glared at her, until she walked into the side of an archway. She turned and fled, hiking her robes up to her knees, running as rapidly as she could. He smirked, and silently set off after her. Not that he was planning on catching her, or that he would do anything to her that she really didn't want him to do, but her fortress had inhabitants within that were on his side, and he knew it now.  
  
The Bloody Baron floated up to him as he followed Emmy. "Snape! We need you! The fifth-year girls are fighting in the Slytherin common room!"  
  
Previously that evening, Millie Bulstrode had been writing Michael Vector a letter in the fifth-year-girls' dormitory. It wasn't the safest place, but the library was closed for the evening, and the Slytherin common room was too public a place to write a letter like that.  
  
Unfortunately, Pansy Parkinson saw Millie writing the letter. "What are you up to, Bulstrode?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing," Millie replied.  
  
"Nothing that involves a quill, ink, and parchment?" Pansy sneered. "What are you writing?"  
  
"Nothing that concerns you, Parkinson. Now go away and go find Draco or something," Millie retorted. "I'm busy."  
  
Pansy reached across the bed, and grabbed the letter. Millie grabbed for it as well, but only succeeded in tearing it in half. Pansy ran out to the common room, shouting, "Bulstrode-the-Troll's writing to her boyfriend!"  
  
"Give me that back, Parkinson!" Millie shouted as she ran after Pansy.  
  
"Bulstrode's got a boyfriend, Bulstrode's got a boyfriend," Pansy sing-songed.  
  
Millie pointed her wand at Pansy, and said, "Accio letter!"  
  
Pansy responded to this, and the piece of parchment was torn into shreds as the two Slytherins fought over it. Millie screamed in rage, and started hexing Pansy. Snape burst into the common room after Millie had hit Pansy with about six different hexes, and Pansy had hit Millie with one.  
  
Snape barked, "Bulstrode! Parkinson! What is the meaning of this?"  
  
The two looked at him, then at each other. "She started it," Millie said.  
  
Pansy couldn't talk due to all the hexes, and Snape had to pronounce the "Finite Incantatem." Pansy collapsed on the floor.  
  
"You bitch!" she shouted at Millie. She got up, shakily.  
  
Snape said, "Malfoy, Greengrass, take Parkinson to the infirmary. Bulstrode, come with me."As soon as the two were in Snape's office, he asked Millie, "Bulstrode, what the hell was all that commotion about?"  
  
Millie gave him a sullen look. "I was writing a letter to someone, and Pansy took it from me and out into the common room. She was going to read it aloud, and I tried to get it back from her. She tore it up, so I started hexing her."  
  
Snape sighed. "Gods. Who was the letter to?"  
  
Millie thrust her lower lip out. "It was personal, sir."  
  
Snape sighed. "Presumably not your family, or you wouldn't have cared who saw it. It was to Michael Vector, wasn't it?"  
  
Millie's face went very blank.  
  
Snape said, "For Merlin's sake, why, Bulstrode?"  
  
Millie glared at him. "Because he's the only person I've ever met who takes me seriously and thinks I'm beautiful."  
  
Snape thought, Well, he's honestly sincere, but on the other hand, he's a dangerous idiot. He groaned, "Bulstrode, he's twenty years older than you are! He's my age, dammit! Old enough to be your father! Why can't you get interested in a boy your own age?"  
  
Millie tilted her head. "Professor Snape, I don't like boys my age, and they don't like me. And besides," she gave him a wicked smile, "either of you would have had to have started very young to have a child my age."  
  
Snape sighed, and mumbled to himself, "Maybe Draco was right, and the Vectors do have some sort of strange power to attract Slytherins." He shook his head, and continued more loudly, "Anyway, you cannot use the Bat-Bogey Hex, the Furnuculus charm, the Confundus Charm, the Conjunctivitis Curse, Rictusempra, Densaugeo, or the Leek Curse on your fellow House members."  
  
Millie spat out, "Well, that doesn't leave me much of anything but Unforgiveables, does it?"  
  
Snape went on, "If you will let me finish, Miss Bulstrode. I know a magical code, that if intercepted, will turn the text into very unflattering comments about the person holding the paper that the text is written on, and then a voice will start reading the comments aloud. It's something like a Howler."  
  
Millie gave him a slow grin. "Have I ever told you that you're the best Head of House in this entire school, sir?"  
  
Snape smirked. "Do tell me when the fun starts, Miss Bulstrode." He cleared his throat. "But there is still the matter of hexing a fellow House member. Thirty points from Slytherin and a detention, with me, not Professor Vector. And no running to her to tell her how many points you lost over a letter to her brother."  
  
Millie sighed. "Yes, sir."  
  
Snape frowned. "And tell me, Bulstrode, why were you writing such a private letter in your dormitory? It's not the best place to do such a thing."  
  
Millie frowned. "The library was closed, sir, and it's past curfew."  
  
Snape pursed his lips. Maybe the Catholic thing will scare her off, or at least I'll have done my duty by warning her what's she's getting involved in. He said, softly, "I wonder if you could find it."  
  
"Find what, sir?" Millie asked.  
  
Snape cleared his throat. "There is a Catholic chapel here in Hogwarts, that is apparently under some very strong variants of the Confundus Charm. It cannot be found by anyone who seeks it with evil intent."  
  
Millie's eyes brightened. "I see. Have you been there, sir?"  
  
Snape nodded. "The Catholic religion seems to be fairly important to the Vectors. You will probably want to inform yourself more about it before you commit yourself even further. Professor Vector seems to like spending time in that chapel on her knees, chanting until her voice wears out and she can't get up without assistance. It appears to be some sort of strange Catholic thing, doing penance for what a thirteenth-century celibate tells her are sins."  
  
Bulstrode said, "Like blood rituals?"  
  
Snape thought, Your family told you that? There could be worse things than Michael Vector in your future."I believe not, but you will want to talk to the Fat Friar for more details."  
  
After she left, Snape wondered if he ought to warn Father Sorin. The girl's likely to cross-examine him on Catholic doctrine, and she will be doing it from a knowledge base of deep black magic, so he might want to burn her at the stake. On the other hand, if he tries, he'll have Mike Vector to deal with, and that would keep him busy with matters other than my love life. Snape's mouth twisted at this thought, and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the thought of Michael Vector dealing with Father Sorin. He muttered, "Lemons, of all things. There's no reason Emmy can't add a bit of water and some sugar. If your confessor gives you lemons, make lemonade."  
  
End of Chapter 28 


	29. Sunday Morning

Chapter 29  
  
Severus Snape woke up at five on Sunday morning. He had been having nightmares all night long. He could not exactly recall what the nightmares consisted of, but that they were nightmares he did not doubt. He decided that he would attend Mass today with That Woman. There was a slight problem insofar as he did not know where and when Mass would be, but he could figure that out. He ran through a list of all his Slytherins in his head, to recall which ones of them practiced any sort of religion. As far as he knew, none of them were Catholics. He briefly entertained the idea of rousting Seamus Finnigan out of bed to find these facts out, but rejected it. It would be a bit enjoyable to frighten the daylights out of him, but it will be much more amusing if I follow Finnigan to the location, and surprise and shock everyone. I don't think they go in Muggle clothes, as I would have noticed the presence of several persons wearing Muggle clothing and no robes on Sundays during my years of teaching. And no one can Apparate onto or off Hogwarts grounds. That matter settled, he started to dress in some of his better robes.  
  
Snape went down to breakfast, and noted that Emmy, Finnigan, Macmillan, and Bones were in the Great Hall, fully dressed in semiformal robes. He heard them shouting, "Westminster Cathedral!" as they threw the Floo powder into the fireplace. He raised an eyebrow. Cathedral and not the Abbey? Ah well, it's London, after all, and very early. He had to admire the artistry of the selector of the place and time, six in the morning. The Muggles are probably too drunk or hungover to notice we're in our robes at this hour of the morning, and I assume that the priests know what's going on. Or are paid not to notice. And if anyone asks questions, we are a party from a school.  
  
Snape was quite surprised when the Floo connection did not take him to Westminster Abbey, but rather into a building that looked rather early twentieth-century in appearance. At least it's from the good part of the twentieth century, though. He silently followed Andromeda and Ted Tonks up the stairs and into the foyer of the church. It was a large brick one, in a style and decoration that looked positively Byzantine. It seemed to be rather dark and half-finished in terms of the decoration, but if it was twentieth-century, he supposed that would come in time. He noticed that everyone was dipping the first two or three fingertips of their right hands into a dish of water, and then touching themselves on the forehead, the breastbone, the left shoulder, and the right shoulder. He imitated them, awkwardly. He took a deep breath and headed into the main part of the building, looking for Emmy and trying to blend in with the crowd. He nodded to various individuals who looked familiar. He saw familiar-looking faces; the Boneses, the Tonkses, the Macmillans, and the Finnigans. He would have been more surprised if he hadn't recognized the families, at the least.  
  
Ernie Macmillan nudged Seamus Finnigan in the ribs when Severus Snape walked up the main aisle of Westminster Cathedral. "Pay up. He's not a vampire after all, Seano. If he was, he couldn't have come into a holy place. He'd have turned into a pile of ashes or something." Snape heard this, and his mouth twitched. I will have to speak to the two of them later, he thought. It was mildly gratifying, though, to be seen by somebody as the Black Bat of Slytherin, here to crash the religious ceremony and desecrate the Catholic holy place. No one else seemed particularly surprised to see him there. He had been expecting rejection, denunciation, and curses. He was almost disappointed that the roof hadn't fallen in when he set foot over the threshold of the church. He suddenly got inspired, took his wand, and worked the charm to give him the appearance of vampire fangs. He then bared his teeth at Macmillan and Finnigan, and they shuddered in horror. It took him a couple of tries before the "Finite Incantatem" worked and his teeth went back to normal.  
  
Michael Vector and the Tonks girl, the Auror who hated her first name, noticed him and had a brief conversation, and he could have sworn he saw some money changing hands between them. He stopped at the row where Emmy was, and took the seat next to her. Emmy's eyes widened when he touched her arm. He nodded to her, and sat down next to her. He could smell her perfume again, and flat incense.  
  
The music started, and everyone stood up. Snape was a beat behind everyone else. Part of his background reading had been a Sunday missal and the Liturgy of the Hours, but he had found them confusing due to their nonlinearity. Emmy pulled out a missal from the chair in front of her, and he peeked at the page she had turned to. The thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time. What the hell does that mean? He pulled out another missal for himself.  
  
"In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, Amen, " the priest, who was wearing a green flowing garment over black and white clothes, said, and everyone in the church except Snape crossed themselves. "Introibo ad altare Dei," the priest said as he stood behind the altar. Snape's Latin permitted him to follow what was going on, at least to some extent. Something about going up to the altar of God, and praising him on the harp.  
  
Then the priest started chanting, "Confiteor Deo omnipotenti…" The congregation repeated this prayer after he was finished. Snape watched Emmy in concern as she chanted, "quia peccavi nimis cogitatione verbo, et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." She looked so sad and remorseful as she said that she had "sinned through her thoughts, words and deeds, by her fault, by her fault, by her most grievous fault." He wanted to reach out his hand and stop her as she struck her own breast on each culpa, but this was apparently part of the ritual for everyone. I should be the one she's hitting, not herself. I was the one who carried her off to my chambers on Halloween night.  
  
The priest said some soft prayers as he approached the altar, kissed it, and censed it. Then he stood up again, and started chanting, "Kyrie elesion." Everyone repeated it, the priest repeated it, and then the people chanted, "Christe elesion." The priest repeated that, then the people, and then the priest and people went through the "Kyrie elesion" again. Snape raised an eyebrow, thinking, They just asked God for forgiveness of their sins, and now they ask him for mercy nine times?  
  
Then the priest chanted, "Gloria in excelsis Deo," and the people continued on, "Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis." Snape snorted. Peace to those people of good will. And yet more requests for mercy.  
  
Then there was yet another "Oremus," and a prayer about a Saint Sylvia, of all people. Although if "Nymphadora" was a saint's name, he supposed anything else could be, even "Severus."  
  
Snape listened to the readings, mentally translating them out of Latin. "You have mercy upon all, because You can do all things; and You overlook the sins of men that they may repent. For You love all things that are and loathe nothing that You have made; for what you hated, You would not have fashioned. And how could a thing remain, unless You willed it; or be preserved, had it not been called forth by You? But You spare all things, because they are Yours, O Lord and lover of all souls, for Your imperishable spirit is in all things!" The priest finished with "Verbum Domini," and the congregation responded with "Deo gratias."  
  
He looked over at Emmy as she sat next to him. Easy to see how God would love her. Merlin, even I do, and I'm a far way from being God. But how could God possibly have mercy upon me, and overlook my sins? To say nothing of God loving me.  
  
The priest started on another reading, one about the Lord being gracious and merciful. The congregation was responding more, so this must be the psalm. The priest's last words were, "The Lord lifts up all who are falling, and raises up all who are bowed down."  
  
There was another reading, but Snape did not bother to pay much attention to it. He was still wrestling with the first reading and the psalm. Is it possible that God would have mercy on me? Is it possible that God would lift me, of all people, up? Is it possible that God could love my filthy, blood-stained soul?  
  
After the second "Deo gratias," everybody stood up, and Snape scrambled to follow them. The priest said, "Dominus vobiscum," the congregation responded in Latin that translated, "And with thy spirit," and then the priest said, in Latin, "A reading from the holy gospel according to Luke."  
  
Snape raised his eyebrows in wonder at the story of Zacchaeus, the short man so desperate to see Jesus that he climbed into a tree. The priest concluded with, "The Son of Man has come to search out and save what was lost. This is the Gospel of the Lord." The congregation made another response, and then everyone sat down.  
  
Snape sat back and looked in the missal again. The homily, where the priest explains the word of God. Wonderful. He prepared to be bored. The priest said, "Dear friends, today we heard about the grace and the mercy of God to all people. Remember, at the time of the Gospels, the tax collectors were traitors and collaborators with the Romans, and their salary came from collecting more than the tax owed. Devout Jews hated tax collectors and would have nothing to do with them, because they were filthy scum. So in this story, we have Christ inviting himself to a tax collector's house, a tax collector, moreover, who was so unmindful of his dignity that he climbed a tree like a child in order to see Jesus. And what does Zacchaeus the tax collector do when Jesus makes this audacious proclamation? He is so inspired by the willingness of Jesus to reach out to him that he publicly reforms his own life; he gives up half of his wealth and swears to pay back all those he has wronged four-fold. God is always reaching out to us, God loves all of us, God keeps on calling us."  
  
Snape thought, So the moral of the story is, climbing trees costs you big money and a lucrative career. That's what happens when you go out of your way to catch sight of celebrities.  
  
The priest went on, "And today is also the feast day of Saint Sylvia, the mother of St. Gregory the Great. Her life showed the maternal love of God, and her children showed God's life as well, even when they were small and making noise as they ran around. Saint Sylvia and her husband Saint Gordian taught their children well, and …" Mike leaned over to his sister, and whispered, "Children's choir," as a baby in front of them started crying. Emmy suppressed a chuckle.  
  
Snape frowned, and thought, I thought that the time I spent working with the students was hell, or optimistically purgatory…but the priest who's saying this, is, after all, celibate by choice and vow. He glared at a little boy and girl who were jumping up and down on the seat in front of him. He softly hissed, "Quiet, you little brats, or I'll pickle your livers." They giggled at him, and the little boy said, "Wow! Wicked cool!" Snape glared at them again, and they ducked away from him. He leaned back in his seat with a satisfied smirk, thinking, I became used to cutting up preserved dead things; I suppose I could get used to this. Maybe fatherhood starting from scratch wouldn't be such a bad thing. I would have a head start, instead of having to wait until the brats are eleven. And my children will be properly behaved. They will be true credits to Slytherin House, instead of being whining spoilt brats or thugs.  
  
Emmy Vector was thinking, as she watched Snape with the children, I have made a grave mistake. He doesn't want to be a father, and look at how he's threatening those children! Albus was right; the only way he'll like children is roasted. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.  
  
When the priest was done, everyone stood up again, and started reciting, "Credo in unum Deum…" Snape kept silent at that point. He was no Christian, to profess belief in God, the Trinity, baptism, the Catholic Church, or everlasting life.  
  
Everyone sat down again, and the priest started reciting more prayers, and censing the altar with more incense. Snape took in a deep breath. It smelled wonderful, like Emmy's perfume. The baby in the row ahead of him started to sneeze, and the mother had to wipe its nose. Snape's mouth twitched. Everyone stood up yet again, and started reciting more lines about "lifting their hearts up to the Lord." Snape wished that they would decide on either sitting or standing. This stand up-sit down business was very annoying. Then everyone started chanting, "Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth…"  
  
Once that prayer was done with, a tremendous sound of wood hitting the floor went up, as everyone put down their kneelers and knelt. Snape watched Emmy as she hooked her foot under the kneeler, and pulled it down from its folded-up position with an ease that spoke of long practice. He attempted to imitate her, but only tangled his foot in the kneeler, and nearly fell down. He finally got untangled and settled on his knees, his face flushed red. The priest had his back turned to the congregation, and he was making gestures over gold vessels on the altar. Emmy's face was turned toward the altar, and her face was rapt in concentration.  
  
The priest held up a flat piece of bread and said, "Hoc est enim corpus meum." Bells rang, and Emmy bowed her head after the priest lowered the bread. Snape imitated her. A short while later, the priest lifted up a golden chalice, and said, "Hic est enim calyx sanguinis mei, novi et aeterni testamenti: mysterium fidei: qui pro vobis et pro multis effundetur in remissionem peccatorum." The bells rang again, and Emmy and Snape bowed their heads again.  
  
After the long prayer was concluded, everyone stood up and recited the Paternoster. The priest said some more prayers, and then the choir started singing, "Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, Miserere nobis." Snape twitched at that. Agnes, like Emmy's sister. Her sisters. Her brothers. How am I going to tell her?  
  
People started getting up from their seats and queuing up down the aisle. Snape stood up to let Emmy and her brother go by. He nearly joined the queue, but Mike and Emmy shook their heads at him. Emmy gave him a shy smile, and Mike gave him a hard look. Snape suddenly felt much more at home. Rejected and cast out, unfit to approach the altar. When they came back, Emmy knelt down and looked intently at the altar, straight ahead, not meeting Severus's eyes. The priest said more prayers as he cleaned the Communion vessels. When he was finished, everyone stood up yet again, and there were more prayers. After the "Ite, missa est," Severus was surprised to see that everyone stayed still. He thought that everyone would leave when they were sent forth. Then the priest began to recite more prayers, traced another cross in the air, and recited yet another reading. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…The light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehendeth it not…and the Word was made Flesh, and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth." Severus translated.  
  
After the final "Deo gratias," everyone began to move. There seemed to be a routine for that as well; every person came out into the aisle, then dropped their right knees and simultaneously touched their forehead, breastbone, left shoulder, right shoulder again. Snape imitated the gesture as best he could, and then proceeded to follow Emmy and the Hogwarts students out. It took him quite a while, as everyone he knew seemed to want to greet him; Tonks and Mike Vector, Tonks's parents, and the senior Macmillans as well. Eventually, he made his way back down to the fireplace in the church basement, and Flooed back to Hogwarts.  
  
Emmy and the three Hogwarts students were all in the Great Hall, having breakfast together at the Ravenclaw table. She nodded to Snape when he came in, and offered him a seat. The students quickly finished their breakfasts, made their excuses to the Professors, and hurried off. Snape found it difficult to believe that it was only eight in the morning.  
  
Snape asked Emmy, "Weren't you surprised to see me?"  
  
Emmy replied, "I thought you would show up eventually."  
  
Snape hissed back, "It would help if you told me where and when. I have been bending over backwards to learn about your religion and your traditions, woman. The least you could do is let me in on the practice instead of just feeding me theory."  
  
Emmy raised her eyebrows. "I was under the impression that you weren't particularly interested in following the practices."  
  
Snape frowned. "If you showed me more of the practices, I might gain some interest. The only thing you have let me see so far is that you wear out your voice and your knees in praying in a deserted chapel. And what you have told me is that you're not supposed to use contraception."  
  
Emmy said, "True. We Catholics like children, and not roasted and served with potatoes and onions."  
  
Snape glared at her. "What in the world do you mean by that? And you Catholics apparently like to let them run around like wild animals, if that Mass was anything to go by."  
  
Emmy glared back. "Better to have them alive and running around than the possible alternatives, Severus."  
  
Snape froze, and then went on the attack. "Are you entirely insane, Emmy Vector? Do you realize what could happen if we became parents? We could wind up dead or insane and have a child like Longbottom or Potter, or our children could die before us, as your siblings did. I realize you want to reclaim your status as a good Catholic wife, and I'm prepared to cooperate with you to some extent, but this is too much! I don't even buy a yearly subscription to the Daily Prophet, and after what happened to your siblings and your first husband, you of all people should know better. You have this crazy Catholic idea that marriage and children will make everything all right. You might ask Potter and Longbottom if their parents did them any favors by bringing them into the world."  
  
Emmy listened to Snape's tirade with wide eyes, and then said to him, "If that's the way you feel, Severus, I think we should think very hard about whether we should get married at all." And then she stormed out of the Great Hall.  
  
Snape followed her, and yelled at the empty air in the stairs to the Great Hall, "You were the one who wanted to get married. I just wanted to have sex!" Father Sorin came drifting in, and said, "I couldn't help but overhear what you just said. Would you care to explain that remark?"  
  
Snape retorted, "No, I would not."  
  
Father Sorin said, "So you admit that you were just using her for the sex? So she can go ahead and leave you, and find someone better to marry?"  
  
Snape shook his head. "She's asking far too much far too quickly, Father. I am not her squeaky-clean, cradle Catholic, Notre Dame-educated first husband."  
  
Father Sorin frowned. "Do you honestly think that she had a perfect marriage with him, Snape?"  
  
Snape glared. "What the devil do you mean by that?"  
  
Father Sorin retorted, "Here she is a lovely young woman, widowed very young by modern standards, at the age of twenty-three or twenty-four. She comes back home from a foreign country, she works at a university in a male-dominated field with a lot of Muggle men, she has a brother who could introduce her to any number of Aurors, and she did not remarry in six years."  
  
Snape frowned in thought, and muttered, "And she admitted that she's been celibate for the last six years. From him until me?"  
  
Father Sorin sighed. "Do the mathematics, Snape."  
  
Snape muttered, "She's thirty now, so celibate for the last six years…since she was widowed."  
  
Father Sorin nodded. "You might want to ask her if she even dated in the past six years."  
  
Snape said, "So she gave up on men?"  
  
Father Sorin shrugged. "You'll have to ask her that, Snape. I can't read minds."  
  
"Or maybe you know and won't tell me," Snape muttered. "Whose side are you on, anyway? Hers or mine?"  
  
"I'm on God's side," Father Sorin said, and vanished.  
  
Snape glared at the empty air. "Typical insolent ghost of a priest. Always has to have the last word, does nothing but lecture me, meddle, and interfere." More of the students were starting to come up the stairs of the Great Hall for breakfast. He nodded coldly to them, and went down to the dungeons.  
  
End of Chapter 29 


	30. Some Conversations

Chapter 30  
  
Snape marched into the Slytherin common room in a fine snit. He saw Blaise Zabini there, reading the Charms textbook. "Zabini, you're part Italian. Why the hell weren't you at Mass today?"  
  
Blaise Zabini gulped in astonishment, and replied, "Sir, the last time any Zabini set foot in a Catholic church was 1842. The water in the baptismal font boiled, and no one knew if it was a practical joke or something supernatural. So we've been good Communists ever since Communism has been around."  
  
Snape hissed in irritation. "I entered a Catholic cathedral today, Zabini, and the roof didn't fall in on me."  
  
Zabini's eyes widened. "You did, sir?"  
  
Snape's mouth twitched. "Yes, I did. Apparently, it settled a bet among your classmates as to whether I was a vampire. Members of other Houses were gathering for Mass, and none of us knew about it. We need to find out about these things and stay informed."  
  
Millicent Bulstrode had wandered into the common room by this point, and Snape turned toward her. "Bulstrode, did you know when and where Sunday Mass was?"  
  
Millie shook her head. "No, sir."  
  
Snape cleared his throat. "Bulstrode, if you're serious about a Catholic, you should attend a Mass or two, so you can find out what you're getting yourself into."  
  
Millie asked him, "What was it like, sir?"  
  
Snape retorted, "It was full of motion and very noisy."  
  
Millie asked, "Full of motion and noisy?"  
  
Snape nodded. "Kneel, stand, sit, in all sorts of order, for varying periods of time. And everybody else seems to know exactly when to do these things. And there are little children running around all over the place, yelling, screaming, crying, babbling, etc. Bulstrode, I think you should come with me next Sunday."  
  
Millie replied, "You mean you're going back?"  
  
Snape replied, "Yes, I am. Let me teach you to do this charm." He performed the vampire-fang charm. After he took it off, he said, "It's definitely an experience you need to have."  
  
Millie said, slowly, "I'll take your word for it, sir. Who else was there?"  
  
Snape frowned. "The Finnigans, the Macmillans, the Boneses, the Tonkses, including their daughter the young Auror, Professor Vector, and Michael Vector." He paused, and went on, "Bulstrode, on second thought, perhaps you needn't come."  
  
Millie narrowed her eyes, and said, "Oh, I think that I will. It sounds a bit different from a Black Mass." And I want to keep an eye on Michael Vector with Auror Tonks, she thought.  
  
Snape tried to imagine a bunch of screaming children at a Black Mass, and shuddered. Bulstrode laughed.  
  
Snape glared at her, and said, "Bulstrode, who's in loco parentis here?"  
  
Millie shook her head, and said, "Sir, you need all the help you can get."  
  
Snape's face twisted into a scowl, and he spat, "Bulstrode, I am going to bring you next week, and hopefully the theme will be respect for your elders!" He then swept out of the common room.  
  
Zabini looked at Millie, and asked, "What happened to him?"  
  
Millie dissolved into laughter. "I think it's what didn't happen. She must be giving him hell. He's been unbearable since Friday."  
  
Zabini sighed and flopped down on a couch. "And here I thought that when the Old Bat finally snared himself a woman, his temperament would improve."  
  
Millie kept laughing, and said, "I think that he needs to get shagged regularly for that to happen, and Professor Vector's a devout Catholic."  
  
Zabini sighed. "Ah, Merlin. So we have to get him married off to her as quickly as possible."  
  
"I wonder if that's the real problem," Millie muttered. "They come from such different backgrounds."  
  
Zabini blew out a breath. "True. Well, let's start drawing up a plan for Operation Impossible, shall we, and plot how to get the two of them hitched?"  
  
Millie frowned. "Operation Impossible?"  
  
Zabini shrugged. "You can't cross a Vector and a scalar, after all."  
  
Millie wrinkled her nose. "Zabini, you make the worst mathematical jokes."  
  
Zabini shrugged. "I'm sure that Professor Vector has heard them all before. I wonder if she'll change her name when she does cave in and marry the Old Bat?"  
  
Millie pursed her lips. "I'm not sure. It might be a bit confusing to have two Professors Snape on the faculty."  
  
Zabini nodded. "True. Will you change your name to Vector?'  
  
Millie blushed. "What are you talking about?" She thought, He hasn't asked me yet! Don't jinx me, Zabini!  
  
Zabini shrugged. "According to m'father, Michael Vector has never been this happy before in his entire life. And m'father's worked with him for years in the Ministry."  
  
Millie shook her head. "I am merely good friends with Auror Vector. We happened to hit it off rather well when we met, that's all."  
  
Zabini looked at Millie, and wisely decided not to pursue the matter further, but thought silently, Good friends, my arse. You'll be engaged by the time you leave school at the latest, or my name isn't Blaise Zabini.  
  
Millie asked, "What are you looking at me like that for?'  
  
Blaise replied, "Well, I'm thinking of the casualty list of you two hitting it off. One dead Dementor, two students spitting slugs, three hours' infirmary time for him … I'd shudder to think of what would have happened if you didn't like each other."  
  
Millie said, "I still remember how to do the slugs, Zabini."  
  
Blaise replied, "I surrender!" and went back to reading Charms.  
  
Meanwhile, in Professor Vector's chambers….  
  
"What's the matter, Emmy?" Father Sorin asked.  
  
"Snape and I had a fight, and I told him we should reconsider getting married," Emmy said.  
  
"You stupid idiot!" Father Sorin said. "I want you to go to his office now and apologize to him."  
  
"Me apologize to him for what he said about having children? Whose side are you on anyway, Father Sorin? Mine or his?" Emmy Vector shouted out.  
  
"I'm on Christ's side," Father Sorin yelled back.  
  
"Aargh! You men are all the same. You stick together no matter what creed you are," Emmy screamed.  
  
"Sacre bleu! He has a bloody point, Emmy! You have been expecting far too much of him, and you have been unwilling to come and meet him halfway!"  
  
"I met him halfway, I bloody well had intercourse with him three times," Emmy spat out.  
  
"That's not what I meant and you know it! You are not always in the right just because you happen to be born Catholic!"  
  
Emmy was pacing angrily around her sitting room now. "I want his children, I want to marry him, this whole thing started because I wanted him to be fair to his students! What do I want that's wrong? He's no paragon of virtue, walking around this school with his sleeves constantly down to cover the Dark Mark!"  
  
Father Sorin retorted, "Is there anything you like about him as he is now, besides the purely physical? If all you want him to do is change, of course he's going to resist."  
  
"I thought he knew what I liked about him," she replied. "Do I have to keep telling him again and again?"  
  
"Yes," Father Sorin screamed back. "Men are basically insecure! They need their egos and their spirits fed constantly, no less than women do! You're not God, and you're not always in the right." Father Sorin made a visible effort to calm himself down, and continued, more quietly, "Has Snape ever told you about his family?'  
  
She frowned, and said, "Yes, a little bit."  
  
Father Sorin said, "Did you get the impression that his family accepted him for who he was?'  
  
She sucked in her breath between her teeth. "He didn't come out and say it one way or the other. But I don't think so, no."  
  
Father Sorin went on, "So do you think he is confident that he is someone who is loveable and worthy of love?"  
  
Emmy shook her head, sighed, and said, "No."  
  
Father Sorin asked, "Do you think he even trusts God to love him?"  
  
Emmy replied, puzzled, "Well, that's why I want him to be a Catholic."  
  
Father Sorin sighed, and said, slowly, "Let's try this again. He doesn't know God. He knows you. And if he thinks that you only love him because you want to make him into somebody else, are you any better than his family?"  
  
Emmy replied, screwing up her face in concentration on the problem, "So I'm supposed to love him like God loves me, unconditionally? And I'm supposed to act as a image of God in his life?"  
  
Father Sorin said, "You're supposed to do the best you can. You do love him, right?"  
  
She slowly started nodding her head, and said, "God help me, yes, I do."  
  
Father Sorin exclaimed, "Well, go tell him that, for the love of Christ! Because if you don't tell him so, he will never, ever figure it out."  
  
Emmy bit her upper lip, and asked him, "Do I have to go now?"  
  
Father Sorin gave her a hard look. "That's up to you. I guarantee it will not get easier."  
  
Emmy sighed, remembering Dumbledore's comment, "Don't let him brood. It only gives him a chance to refine his cutting remarks." She looked at her watch. Almost noon. He had had about three hours to brood. "Pray for me, Father Sorin, and if I don't return, be ready to sing my funeral Mass."  
  
Father Sorin signed her with the Cross. "Go with God, my daughter."  
  
Emmy sighed, and headed out of her chambers. She used the Designo me spell again, and wound up once again facing a blank wall in the dungeons. She knocked on the door. "Severus, it's Emmy. Please let me in. We need to talk." No answer. She knocked again, and again. Still no answer. She shouted, "Severus Snape, will you let me in, or shall I practice my banshee impersonation for any Slytherins who happen to be passing by?"  
  
The wall opened up, and Snape stood in the doorway, scowling. He sneered, "So you think you'll have something to say that I'll enjoy hearing better than banshee imitations?"  
  
Emmy said, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."  
  
Snape's jaw dropped, and he said, "For what, exactly?"  
  
She replied, "Father Sorin said—"  
  
Snape exploded with, "And of course you do what Father Sorin says, God knows. You crazy Catholic Ravenclaw, you can't think for yourself."  
  
Emmy said, as calmly as she could, "Father Sorin said that if I didn't tell you I loved you, you'd never figure it out."  
  
Snape stood still as a statute. Finally, he drawled, "Really."  
  
She nodded. He took her arm, drew her into the room, shut and locked the door, and sat down on the sofa with her. He said again, with a smile beginning to form on his face, "Really?"  
  
She replied, "Really what? That I love you, or that you'd never figure it out?"  
  
Snape said, "Leaving Father Sorin out of it, was I supposed to figure it out?"  
  
She sighed, looked down and then back into his eyes, and said, "Well, I thought you would. I don't go to bed or get engaged to just anybody, after all."  
  
Snape lifted his eyebrows. "I suppose I should find that reassuring."  
  
She nodded her head. "Yes, you should." She swallowed, took a deep breath, and went on, "I know I'm asking a lot of you all of a sudden."  
  
Snape replied, "You're damned right you are."  
  
Emmy's mouth twitched, and she said, "But I do want you, even if you never change. Even if you never convert, even if you only like children with onions and potatoes on the side."  
  
Snape said, perplexed, "Where do you get these ideas? Onions and potatoes!"  
  
Emmy folded her lips in. She said, "That one about the children was from Dumbledore." Snape snorted, and Emmy went on. "Now, I first realized I was falling in love with you during the course of that bet, and when you announced on Halloween night that we were engaged, I was a bit shocked and a bit angry because I wanted it to be true."  
  
Snape replied, intently, "It is true." He gripped her hand, the one with the ring on it, tightly.  
  
She realized, My God, I did have to tell him, and not just show him. She said, softly, "I had a crush on you since I was a first-year, but it wasn't until last Halloween night that I realized I did want to spend the rest of my life with you, and it terrified me."  
  
Snape replied, smirking, "I do tend to have that effect on people."  
  
She chuckled and said, "You should. You work hard enough at it."  
  
Snape asked, "So why didn't I frighten you before?"  
  
She shook her head and said, "It's not you that frightens me; it's taking another chance on marriage. It didn't really work that well the first time for me."  
  
Snape leaned back, mouth slightly agape. Father Sorin was right, and my preconceptions were wrong. "Really. I find that surprising."  
  
She nodded and said, "Maybe we could have made a better go of it if he hadn't been murdered and other things, but looking back on it, I married him for the wrong reasons."  
  
Snape raised his eyebrows, and said, "Such as?"  
  
Emmy grimaced. "I wanted to escape into the Muggle world and get away from the wizarding world, leave it behind entirely."  
  
Snape said, "Well, that certainly won't be the case with me."  
  
She shook her head and said, "No, you're not an escape ticket by any means of the imagination."  
  
He said, "Good."  
  
Emmy sighed, looked away, and said, "With Brendon, I had to shut him out of large parts of my life. My past, my abilities, et cetera. And eventually we shut each other out of everything." She looked back at Severus. "I want you to be part of all my worlds, including the Catholic, and that's why I've been pushing. I forgot it can't be easy for you."  
  
He started to rub her palm, and softly replied, "No, it's not easy."  
  
Emmy smiled and asked, "Is it worth it?"  
  
He smirked, and said, "Did you really have a crush on me when you were a first-year?"  
  
She blushed, nodded, took her lower lip under her teeth, and said, "Yes, I did."  
  
He smirked and said, "Well, then." He put an arm around her and leaned her back.  
  
Emmy muttered softly, "Lemons." She put her hand on Severus' chest, and pushed gently against him.  
  
Snape moved his left hand so it laced with hers, started kissing her, and whispered, "I have a bag of them in the kitchen. Stay with me, Emmy, please. I do love you."  
  
End of chapter 30. 


	31. Interruptions

Chapter 31  
  
Snape was quite content with the world at that point. He had a beautiful, willing woman in his arms, his door was locked, and it was a Sunday, so he did not have to deal with any pesky students.  
  
Emmy suddenly pushed against his chest. "Severus. Severus, I hear Albus calling you."  
  
Snape bit down a curse, got up, and set his robes back to rights. He went over to the fireplace.  
  
Dumbledore's head was in the fire. "Ah, Severus. There you are. I have an important matter to discuss with you, right now."  
  
Snape sighed with disappointment. "I'm on my way, Headmaster." He turned to Emmy, who had by now set her own robes to rights. He nodded to her, "Later, Emmy."  
  
She bit her lower lip, and nodded back. He Flooed himself to Dumbledore's office. She checked to see that the door was locked, and then Flooed herself back to her own quarters. Once she was there, she started grading papers like mad. She had fallen quite behind, what with her other work for Dumbledore, and now her engagement. However, grading Arithmancy and calculus quizzes was a task that required only part of her mind, and the other part kept on turning over the scene in Snape's quarters.  
  
He was taking advantage of you, her conscience whispered to her. You poured out your heart to him, and he took it as a license to shag you. Men are all alike. All they want is sex, and then when they get what they want, they'll leave you without a backward glance. If he really loved you, he'd respect your religious beliefs and your decisions. He's worse than Brendon was. At least Brendon married you before he lost interest and started to neglect you and cheat on you. And even if Severus did marry you, it wouldn't work anyway. He bears the Dark Mark, he hates children, he's a pagan born and bred. If you couldn't even get a relationship to work with Brendon who was a Catholic, how will you ever get it to work with Severus, who's so different from you? It's not going to work. You can't get it to work. You'll fail at it as you did before. Best to break it off with him as soon as you can. Emmy savagely made the final correction on the last quiz, stacked the papers into two piles, one for Hogwarts and one for the University, and retreated to her sofa. She wrapped herself in a blanket, and started to cry.  
  
Meanwhile, Snape was talking to Dumbledore about war-related business. Suddenly, he felt the summons coming through his Mark. He gripped his arm, and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. Snape gasped, "Albus, I need to go." Dumbledore nodded, and Snape used his fireplace to get off- campus. Once he was off Hogwarts grounds, Snape followed the summons and wound up at a Death Eater gathering.  
  
Voldemort announced, "We are here to witness the punishment of a traitor."  
  
Snape's heart nearly leapt into his throat at that, and it took him all his effort to remain still. However, no one went for him, no one singled him out, no one grabbed him to drag into the circle for punishment. Instead, Crabbe and Goyle dragged a badly battered man into the circle. It took Snape a few minutes to recognize him as Edgar Pangbourne, a Hufflepuff who had been two years behind him at Hogwarts.  
  
"And what punishment does a traitor deserve?" Voldemort asked.  
  
The gathering responded with one voice, "Death!"  
  
"And what kind of death?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"Painful!" the chorus came.  
  
Voldemort sneered, "Well said, my faithful servants. Crucio!" he shouted. Pangbourne convulsed in agony for a long time until he fell still. Voldemort laughed, and said, "Take this, all of you, and eat it." Snape nearly gagged as he suddenly realized where that line had come from. He had seen executions like this before in the old days, but now he had seen what the execution was parodying. He silently asked pardon from Pangbourne's soul as the crowd of Death Eaters advanced with their knives.  
  
When Snape came back to Hogwarts, he was quite shaken. After he curtly reported Pangbourne's death to Dumbledore, he wound up retreating to his own quarters, and vomiting into a dustbin. It could have been me. It could have been me. And Edgar Pangbourne did not deserve that kind of death. No one does. Once he cleaned himself up, he decided to go to Emmy. He needed to remind himself that there was still something clean in this world. And hopefully, she had been thinking fond thoughts of him all that afternoon.  
  
When he knocked on Emmy's door, he heard a faint "Alohamora" from her, and the door opened. She was sitting on the sofa in her sitting room, with an empty box of tissues by her side. "Good afternoon, Severus," she said coldly.  
  
Snape frowned. "Good afternoon, my dear. Is something wrong?"  
  
Emmy stood up and snarled at him, "Don't you dare call me 'my dear.' You were only taking advantage of me. I poured out my heart to you, and you took it as a free license to shag me. All you really wanted was sex, and when you get what you want, you'll leave me without a backward glance. You don't really love me. You just told me you did to get me into bed. You were planning on smugly taking advantage of me, and using me for escape. If you really loved me, you'd respect my religious beliefs and my decisions about when I'll share my body with you."  
  
Snape spluttered, "What the bloody devil is the matter with you, Emmy? I told you I meant it when I announced we were engaged, I told you I loved you, I've been to your religious services with you. Yes, I enjoyed sex with you, yes, I want to get you into bed again, but I am not going to leave you. I want much more than just sex from you. And you went against your religious beliefs before for me; why not keep on with what you started?"  
  
Emmy narrowed her eyes. "I believe this conversation has reached its useful end, Severus." She grabbed the Portkey off her shelf, and vanished before he could stop her.  
  
Snape stormed out of her rooms in a fine rage. Damned manipulative sneaky crazy Catholic Ravenclaw wench. She won't stay and fight it out with me, damn her eyes. She throws my words of love back in my face. I expected it to go this bad, but not this fast! I was planning on having plausible deniability on telling her that I loved her, sneering and laughing at her and her naïve Catholic Ravenclaw ways, telling her, 'I just said it to get your knickers down,' but I was expecting it to work at least once, dammit!  
  
Father Sorin came drifting down the hallway at that point. "Where the hell did That Woman go?" Snape hissed at him.  
  
"What did you do to her that she ran away from you, Severus Snape?" the Friar replied.  
  
Snape sputtered, "I told her that I did love her, and the psychotic wench rejected me! She told me that if I really loved her, I'd respect her religious beliefs and practices."  
  
Father Sorin sighed. "And what did you do to her, that she thought you didn't respect her religious beliefs and practices?"  
  
Snape flushed and fell silent.  
  
Father Sorin shook his head. "Congratulations, you finally got one out of three right, maybe. You finally told her you loved her. Was it true, or did you say that just to get her into bed again? Do you love anything about her besides her body?"  
  
Snape sighed. "She is a most maddening, intoxicating, infuriating woman."  
  
Father Sorin said, "Oh, so what happened? She said no?"  
  
Snape said, "I said I loved her. She called me a liar."  
  
Father Sorin asked, "Were you lying?"  
  
Snape took a deep breath, about to exercise plausible deniability, and sneer that no, he didn't really love her; he had just said it to get her knickers down.  
  
Father Sorin said, "Yes or no? I have centuries of dealing with people who aren't telling me the truth."  
  
Snape spluttered, "Well, she obviously…"  
  
Father Sorin repeated, "Yes or no, and we'll go on from there."  
  
Snape yelled, "Yes, dammit, I do!"  
  
Father Sorin nodded. "All right. Now why do you think she doesn't believe you?"  
  
Snape retorted, "How the hell am I supposed to know?"  
  
Father Sorin said, "Because you're a spy. You know when you're lying to others and you have gotten away with it, and if you're still alive and breathing, you must have some skill at it, with certain exceptions that I cannot go into because of the seal of the confessional."  
  
Snape thought, Are any of my students Catholic? Which ones of them were at Mass, what have they done…He looked the ghost in the face, and said, "All right, she expects to be lied to."  
  
Father Sorin said coolly, "So where do you think she got that from?"  
  
Snape frowned. "Her first husband, damn his eyes."  
  
Father Sorin said, "So now what do you know about her first husband?"  
  
Snape said slowly, "He lied to her about whether he loved her."  
  
Father Sorin replied. "Excellent. Twenty points to Slytherin. So what are you going to do?"  
  
Snape drew himself up and stared at the ghost. "She said she didn't want me to be like her first husband."  
  
Father Sorin shrugged. "Very well. Tell her the truth about whether you love her."  
  
Snape retorted through clenched teeth, "I did tell her the truth, dammit, and she won't listen to me."  
  
Father Sorin looked at him and said, "Well, she's afraid."  
  
Snape sneered, "Afraid of me?"  
  
Father Sorin shook his head. "No, she's afraid of marriage. She doesn't trust her own judgment about men anymore."  
  
Snape said coldly, "I am hardly evidence that her judgment has improved."  
  
Father Sorin sighed and went on, "Snape, let me give you some advice. The only way this marriage is going to work is if only one of you is in a guilty tailspin at a time. Now since she is the one feeling guilty and ashamed of herself, which you may be pleased to know she would not be if she hadn't wanted to go to bed with you, it is your turn to be the mature and reasonable one. Any fits of self-loathing you plan to indulge in will have to be postponed until she comes out of it."  
  
Snape sulked, "She could have said 'not until after we're married.' I'm the one who wants to get married."  
  
Father Sorin said slowly, "You are going to have to convince her that she wants to get married."  
  
Snape sneered, "Now how do I do that? By pretending I don't want to sleep with her?"  
  
Father Sorin said, "No. By restraining your actions. You may want to sleep with her, but you shouldn't until after you're married."  
  
Snape shouted back, "You don't understand, you meddlesome ghost! You've been dead for seven hundred years, and you were a celibate even before you died."  
  
Father Sorin hissed, "Before I was dead, I was alive, and before I was a priest and a monk, I was a man with a past that you know nothing about."  
  
Snape's jaw dropped. "Oh." I think I could find out.  
  
Father Sorin sighed. "Snape, do you expect her to read your mind?"  
  
Snape set his jaw.  
  
"What happened to you that you needed to make love to her?" Father Sorin asked quietly.  
  
"Nothing," Snape hissed. "Absolutely nothing."  
  
Father Sorin sighed. "Snape, let me tell you two things. First, part of confession is absolute confidentiality on my part. By my vows, I cannot ever tell anyone what you have said to me in confession. Second, don't insult my intelligence by saying nothing happened. I've heard too many confessions from Crusaders and other warriors not to recognize that 'nothing.'"  
  
Snape glared at the ghost. "Not out here in the corridor."  
  
Father Sorin nodded. "Of course not. Let's go into the chapel."  
  
Snape looked around, and the door to the Catholic chapel was indeed present. He had never seen it there before. He opened the door and went in. Father Sorin drifted in, and into the small boxy-looking structure with three doors in it. Snape opened the door and went in. He looked at the kneeler set besides the screen, and shook his head. Father Sorin's voice sounded from the other side of the screen, "Come around to this side, Severus." Snape sat down in one chair, and Father Sorin appeared to sit down in the other.  
  
"What happened, Severus?" Father Sorin asked.  
  
Snape sighed. "I was summoned to a meeting of Death Eaters this afternoon by the Dark Lord. He was torturing and executing a traitor to his side. It was an acquaintance of mine from school, Edgar Pangbourne." Snape could feel himself shaking all over again at the horror of it.  
  
"How did it happen, Severus?" Father Sorin asked yet again, quietly and inexorably.  
  
Snape shook his head. "You don't want to know, Father."  
  
"I've heard many horrible things throughout my ministry here, Severus. I doubt I can be shocked anymore." Father Sorin replied, calmly and levelly.  
  
"First Voldemort used Crucio. Then he parodied your ceremony, and said 'Take this, all of you, and eat it,' and then –" Snape choked in disgust on what all the Death Eaters had done.  
  
Father Sorin nodded. "Blasphemy and Dark Arts, indeed. A parody of the Mass. Traditional. I can see why you sought Emmy out after you returned, but you told her none of this?"  
  
"She hasn't had several hundred years not to be shocked."  
  
Father Sorin replies, "So as far as she was concerned, you left to go talk to Dumbledore about something ordinary, came back from your errand, and expected her to fall into your arms."  
  
Snape replied, "I wanted to take up where we had left off, and I didn't want to think about what I had just seen."  
  
Father Sorin replied, calmly, "You wanted to be comforted without making yourself vulnerable by admitting you needed comforting."  
  
"Well, I didn't want to tell the woman I loved that I was afraid for my life and feeling sorry for a Death Eater and throwing up in the dustbin over the fate of someone whom she would think deserved it. Aren't you going to tell me he's in hell now?"  
  
Father Sorin asked him, "Have you heard of Jonah? Or St. Dismas?"  
  
Snape replied, "The whale, and no."  
  
Father Sorin said, "I'll take that as a no on both. After Jonah was spit out of the whale, he went to Nineveh and prophesied to the people, and they repented. Jonah grew furious with God for not punishing the people of Nineveh for their past sins, and went out into the desert. God caused a gourd to grow up to provide shadow to Jonah in his tent. Then He caused the gourd to wither, and Jonah grew angry with God for not having mercy on the gourd. God reminded Jonah, 'If you wish mercy for this gourd, how much more do I wish it for an entire city?' And the second story I want to tell you is that of Dismas, who was executed for thievery on the same day and at the same place that Jesus Christ was. Dismas asked Christ for mercy, and Christ replied, 'This very day you shall be with me in Paradise.' And the Church has remembered that man executed as a thief ever since as Saint Dismas, and believes that he is in Heaven with Christ." He paused. "Are you more merciful than God the Father or God the Son, Jesus the Christ?"  
  
Snape shook his head. "Not by a long shot, Father."  
  
Father Sorin shrugged. "And if you can have pity for a fellow Death Eater, God can presumably have mercy on him. I am not going to tell you that so- and-so is in Hell, Snape. I can only give you the official list of those who are in Heaven."  
  
Snape replied, "Does she know these stories?"  
  
Father Sorin said, "She should. She'll know St. Dismas, at least."  
  
Snape sighed and said, "All right, Father Sorin. What do I do now?"  
  
Father Sorin said, "Do you think she's happy right now?"  
  
Snape replied, "No."  
  
Father Sorin said, "There was a wise man once who said, 'Grant that I may not seek so much to be consoled as to console….for it is in giving that we receive.'" Father Sorin gave Snape a small smile, and continued, "It actually works, you know. Seek her out, comfort her, reassure her of your love, and you will be reassured of hers, even if the pair of you don't fall into sins of lust."  
  
Snape replied, "So where is she?"  
  
Father Sorin sighed. "What part of "seek her out" did you not understand?"  
  
Snape muttered, "'Sins of lust' are a lot less complicated."  
  
Father Sorin raised an eyebrow and drawled, "Really. I was under the impression they could be quite complicated."  
  
Snape realized, He's been hearing confessions for centuries. I can't shock him on that one either. He said, "All right, I'll find her myself, and I'm going to make all three out of three right. Track her down and convince her that I do love her, ask her for her hand, and send a letter to her father to make an appointment to ask him for her hand."  
  
Father Sorin nodded and said, "Good lad. Go with God, my son. May God open your heart, and may He keep your trousers fastened. May St. Raphael the Archangel, patron of travelers and young lovers, guard and guide you on your way."  
  
End of Chapter 31 


	32. Sunday Dinner

Chapter 32  
  
Snape went up to the Owlry with two letters in his hand. The first was a message to Edmund Vector, asking him for a meeting on "a matter of private importance." The second was a message to Emmy, saying, "Emmy dear, can we talk?" He had cheated with the second message, and put a tracer into it, so that he could track That Woman down.  
  
Emmy Vector had attempted to work on more problems for Dumbledore that afternoon and evening at her office at the University, but her efforts had been quite unsuccessful. She had finally conceded temporary defeat and gone home to her flat. She had been talking to her pet snake Blanche, eating ice cream straight out of the carton, and crying.  
  
She heard a tapping on her window, and opened it up for the post owl. She saw the message it carried, and frowned. It looks like Snape's handwriting. Not that he's written much to me, the treacherous bastard. But I've seen it on the students' records. She nodded to the owl, fed it a treat, and told it, "No reply." She threw the message into the fire. The owl flew off, and she kept talking to Blanche. "Blanche darling, men are fundamentally untrustworthy."  
  
Snape had tracked the letter down, and Apparated in the alley next to the building. He used the Designo me charm again, and followed his wand into the building. He quietly opened Emmy's door, and entered into her flat. He heard Emmy talking, "Men are all pigs, Blanche darling, regardless of species. All they want is sex, and then they'll leave you without a word. Don't trust men, sweetheart."  
  
Snape grew quite irritated at this. What do you mean regardless of species? Is this what Father Sorin meant about complicated lust? "Have you finished slandering my character and my sex with your female friend?" he asked as he entered Emmy's bedroom. Emmy gasped at the sight of Snape. Snape recoiled when he saw Emmy sitting on a bed with a large white boa constrictor in her lap, licking tears off her face. "What the bloody devil is that?" he asked.  
  
Emmy sniffled, and her mouth twitched. "Snape, this is my pet snake Blanche. Blanche, this is Severus Snape."  
  
Snape stared at her. "You have a pet snake."  
  
Emmy nodded. "Yes."  
  
Blanche slid off Emmy's lap, and toward Snape, making threatening motions and hissing. Emmy said, "Blanche, be nice. Behave yourself." Emmy got off the bed and gestured at Blanche.  
  
Snape retreated to the bedroom doorway. He could have sworn that the damned snake smirked at him before it went back to its mistress. He asked Emmy, "Why can't you have a cat like a normal witch?"  
  
Emmy's mouth twitched again, into something resembling a smile this time. "What's the fun in that? A cat is nothing more than a snake with fur and legs." She petted the snake, and Blanche writhed in seeming pleasure.  
  
Snape cleared his throat. "Better not say that in front of McGonagall. I'll ask you again. Why do you have a snake?"  
  
Emmy smiled. "I got her to dance with years ago. But now she's a bit big for me to dance with."  
  
"I'll say," Snape muttered. "Are you a Parselmouth, by any chance?"  
  
Emmy shook her head. "No. Some belly dancers have pet snakes."  
  
Snape said, "So you could have danced with her on Halloween night?" He mentally entertained the fantasy of Emmy in that waterfall costume with the white snake accompanying her. She'd look like a proper mate for a Slytherin. Green and silver, and the white snake.  
  
Emmy shook her head. "She's too big, Snape."  
  
Snape stared at the snake. Blanche butted her head against the empty ice cream carton, and proceeded to investigate the inside. Emmy shook her head, picked up the carton, and said, "Blanche, I fed you some nice fat rats five days ago. You don't need to eat anything else for another five days, and you most certainly do not need ice cream. It does not agree with you at all, and you know that."  
  
Blanche hissed at her mistress, and proceeded to slither out the bedroom door. Snape jumped out of the snake's way as she passed him. Emmy followed her snake. "Blanche, come back here. I don't want to spend hours searching for you in the heating duct system again."  
  
Snape followed Emmy as she chased after Blanche. Blanche slithered into the kitchen, and Emmy caught her and held her. Blanche hissed again and again at her mistress. "Blanche, what the devil has gotten into you? I've never seen you act this way before." Blanche moved down her mistress's body and coiled herself around Emmy's hips. "Blanche!" Emmy scolded her. "Stop that. Severus is going to think that you're utterly uncivilized."  
  
"Severus is going to think that you're damned lucky," Snape said.  
  
Emmy blushed. "Severus!"  
  
"What has that snake got that I haven't, that you let her hold you around the hips and not me?" Snape asked.  
  
Emmy retorted, "It's more what she doesn't have, and you've got, Severus." She then realized what she had said, and blushed a deeper shade of red.  
  
"Here, let me take her for you," Snape said. He reached out a hand, and Blanche hissed and nipped at him. "Ouch! Damned insolent snake."  
  
Emmy grabbed Blanche behind her head, and said, "Bad snake. Into your box with you, Miss Blanche." Emmy carried Blanche back to her cage, shut the door, and locked it.  
  
Snape said, "You like playing with danger, Emmy. Keeping pet snakes, seducing Slytherins, what next? Taking on a nest of Death Eaters?"  
  
Emmy glared at him. "Severus, why are you here besides upsetting my snake?"  
  
Snape replied, "Were you going to wait and tell me about Blanche on the wedding night?"  
  
Emmy replied, "No, there are several things I expected you to learn over the course of the engagement. And I don't see why a Slytherin of all people should be upset over an innocent boa constrictor."  
  
Snape retorted, "We don't believe in innocent snakes."  
  
Emmy replied, "Be wise as serpents, gentle as doves?"  
  
Snape retorted, "I think that's another religious reference, and I think I've had more than my fill of them for the day."  
  
Emmy replied very coldly, "Oh, really." Her hand went to her wand.  
  
Snape stalked over to the piece of furniture that was furthest from the door, so she'd have a harder time throwing him out. He sat down, heavily. "I came to apologize for this afternoon. I was summoned from Albus's office to a Death Eater meeting, and I heard the Dark Lord do what Father Sorin told me was a parody of the Mass."  
  
Emmy's mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. She gasped, "Oh, Severus. Are you all right?"  
  
Snape shrugged. "Yes. It was another traitor who was tortured and executed."  
  
Emmy frowned and asked, "Was it somebody you knew?"  
  
He was quite surprised by her question. He felt absurdly pleased. He replied, "I knew him since he was eleven and at Hogwarts. He was a murderer, a Death Eater, et cetera. He died in agony screaming for help, and there wasn't any."  
  
Emmy replied, "I'm sorry." She folded her hands and mentally ran through the old Catholic prayer, Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest forever in peace. Amen.  
  
Snape noticed her lips moving, and said, "I'm sorry. I should have told you or gotten Albus to tell you."  
  
Emmy realized that this was what he had arrived from when she spoke to him that afternoon. "Oh, sweet Christ. Severus, I'm sorry. I should have known that you weren't planning to smugly take advantage of me."  
  
He replied dryly, "Oh, I was, I suppose. What was it you said, 'using someone else to escape?'"  
  
She said, "Oh." She squared her shoulders, and asked, "Do you still want that?"  
  
He was rather surprised. He shook his head and said, "It doesn't seem to be working well for either of us, that strategy."  
  
She sat down beside him, took his hand, and said, "We are a proper pair, aren't we?"  
  
Snape replied, "A proper pair of what?"  
  
The snake hissed at that point. Emmy leaned over and said, "Quiet, Blanche."  
  
Snape asked her, "Have you had Potter talk to that snake?"  
  
Emmy looked back at him and replied, "No, I haven't brought her to Hogwarts yet."  
  
Snape looked at the snake and said, "That might be just as well." The snake hissed again.  
  
Emmy said, "She's very, very strange as it is. I'm a bit afraid to bring her to Hogwarts."  
  
Snape asked, "There's no chance she's an Animagus, is there?"  
  
Emmy frowned. "I don't think so. She's been a snake for about four years now, and I've never seen her change forms."  
  
Snape replied, "But you don't have a pedigree for her, or anything of that nature?"  
  
Emmy said, "Well, I do have papers for her, and she is a pure-blood recessive. She'd have to be to have albino coloring."  
  
Snape thought, Well, that settles one problem. What would the insult for a snake of unknown ancestry be? Mudblood isn't quite appropriate. They're cold-blooded. Would you say Slushblood? "Emmy, there is no way that I will kiss you in front of this snake, lest Potter meet it and hear all about it."  
  
Emmy replied, "Well, I'm sure that Blanche would be very discreet."  
  
Snape said, "The only two people she could talk to are Potter and the Dark Lord. Would you want either of them to know about our love life?"  
  
Emmy said, "Well, I can't imagine Voldemort listening to a long recitation of exactly what we did."  
  
Snape hissed, "Don't even joke about that."  
  
Emmy gulped, and said, "I'm sorry. It's the Irish in me, to joke in the face of death."  
  
Snape snorted, and said, "When do you stop?"  
  
Emmy replied, "Well, death is ever-present."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes. "You are part English. Try to remember it."  
  
Emmy said, "I don't want to wait that long to get the jokes."  
  
Snape shook his head. "Well, you must be Irish. Here you are, cozying up to the English invader."  
  
Emmy wailed, "Severus!" and jumped up and threw a pillow at him. It missed. Her stomach rumbled.  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Hungry after an entire carton of ice cream?"  
  
Emmy replied, "It was only a quarter of the carton." She stood up. "Well, Severus, what do you want to have for dinner?"  
  
Snape shuddered. "No meat. Nothing that even looks like rare meat. I'm really not that hungry."  
  
Emmy raised an eyebrow. "Have you had anything to eat since breakfast?"  
  
Snape shook his head. "No. I didn't eat. Nor do I want to."  
  
Emmy let out a slow breath. She thought of the wake for her siblings, and how her aunts had all taken over the kitchen from her mother. She replied, "I'll cook something and you can just look at it for a while."  
  
She started to fry some potatoes in butter, pure comfort food that she remembered from her childhood. She nearly reached for the bacon in the refrigerator, but checked herself. "Do you want any parsley or kale in this, Severus?" she asked. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen watching her.  
  
"Suit yourself," Severus replied. Emmy frowned, and decided that Severus was too English to appreciate colcannon. "I'll add a little bit of dried parsley and some onions, then," she told him.  
  
She asked him as she cooked, "Are you in additional danger now, Severus?"  
  
He replied, "Probably not."  
  
She nodded and turned her attention back to the potatoes. She tasted them, and decided they needed a bit of salt and pepper. She asked, "Has this happened before?'  
  
He said, "Yes."  
  
The potatoes kept on cooking. Emmy frowned, and decided that what the potatoes needed was more butter. She took it out of the refrigerator, and put some more in. She asked, "Has what happened today happened before?"  
  
He sighed. "Not in quite some time. And the last time I saw it, I wasn't guilty of what the victim was being punished for."  
  
She looked at him, and said, "What you're doing is important and it is right."  
  
The potatoes started smelling better. He thought, Father Sorin was right about this. They ate dinner together, and Flooed back to Hogwarts afterwards. Snape walked her to the door of her quarters, and left her there with a chaste kiss. He thought that night as he got ready for bed, I might actually end up sleeping tonight, and I hadn't expected to do that. He fell asleep remembering Emmy in a Muggle kitchen, with the smell of potatoes and butter.  
  
End of Chapter 32 


	33. Monday, Monday

Chapter 33: The Next Day, Monday  
  
And on that Monday -  
  
Snape frowned as he saw Draco Malfoy in the Slytherin common room that Monday morning. "Malfoy, what are you doing here instead of at Arithmancy class?" he asked.  
  
Draco sneered back, "Didn't your fiancée tell you that she threw me out of Arithmancy class for calling her what she is to her face?"  
  
Snape's nostrils flared. "The Headmaster and Professor Flitwick informed me that you had exhibited a shocking lack of respect to Professor Vector, and that Miss Chang would be privately tutoring you in Arithmancy until and unless you apologize to Professor Vector. I had thought that you would have apologized to her by now."  
  
Draco spat back, "She doesn't deserve an apology. She's a slut of a Ravenclaw."  
  
"Malfoy, may I remind you that I intend to marry the woman you are speaking of so disrespectfully?"  
  
Draco sneered. "You don't really intend to marry her. Father says that she's nothing better than a filthy half-Irish whore of a half- Mudblood. "  
  
Snape pulled out his wand and said, " If you follow pure-blood tradition, then I should kill you for what you just said. Ask your father about it, or better yet, ask your mother. An insult to my fiancée is an insult to me. Considering my position and my status, I should not let you walk around unscathed. I'm sure I could make it look like an accident."  
  
Draco said, "The bitch already washed my mouth out with soap! What more do you want?"  
  
Snape murmured, "What to do, what to do?" He went on more loudly, "Draco, my fiancée is a gentle Catholic lady and makes mistakes at times in discipline; soap's not really appropriate for anybody over eleven. But if you weren't in school, I would extract your tongue and leave you to bleed to death.messy, but appropriate." Snape paralyzed and swelled Malfoy's tongue with a flick of his wand and a word. "With your tongue swollen, you can't swallow and you may choke to death. And I'm not sure that I want to do anything about it."  
  
Malfoy's mouth filled with spit, and he tried to say, with a paralyzed, swollen tongue, "You're not serious! Wait until I tell my father."  
  
Snape said, "Oh, you plan to tell your father. That's another reason I shouldn't let you live. If I were you, I'd run to Headmaster Dumbledore as quickly as possible, because he might be inclined to help you. I am not. And if you happen to survive and ever attempt to speak of Professor Vector in those terms again, I can assure you that you won't succeed."  
  
Draco's eyes were wide by now, and he ran from the common room. Snape pulled some Floo powder out, threw it in the fire, and said, "Headmaster's office."  
  
Dumbledore replied, "Professor Snape."  
  
Snape said, "Headmaster, you will need to disenchant Draco Malfoy. He was using extremely disrespectful language about Professor Vector to me, and I put a hex on him to paralyze and swell his tongue. He should be on his way to you right now."  
  
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said.  
  
As Draco ran through the dungeons, he met Cho Chang, who was on her way to collect him for his Arithmancy tutoring. She tried to lift the spell, but failed in her attempt. Draco tried to tell her, "Dumbledore! Go get Dumbledore!" Cho finally figured out what he was trying to say, and they ran to the Headmaster's office together. When they got to the gargoyle, it slid open for them without a password, and they hurried up the steps to the office.  
  
Dumbledore lifted the hex on Draco, and advised him, "Mr. Malfoy, you should keep quiet about this, because some of your classmates would think this is funny."  
  
Draco said, "Chang, did you think it was funny?"  
  
"No, but you deserved it!" she spat.  
  
Draco said, "All you Ravenclaw wenches are all the same. You're all against the Malfoys!"  
  
Cho said, "In your dreams!"  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat.  
  
Draco glared at Cho, and then shifted his eyes back to Dumbledore.  
  
Cho drew herself up to her full height. She said, "Headmaster, I do not wish to work with Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Draco asked Dumbledore, "Can she do that?" ,  
Dumbledore said, "Draco, do you want to pass your Arithmancy OWL?"  
  
Draco sulked and said nothing.  
  
Dumbledore said, "Do you want to prove to Professor Vector that you can do it?"  
  
Draco said, "Yes."  
  
"Apologize to Miss Chang," Dumbledore said.  
  
Draco mumbled, "I'm sorry I said that about the Ravenclaws."  
  
Cho nodded. "Very well. I will consent to tutor you." Cho nodded to Dumbledore. "Sir." She turned and started to leave. Draco did not follow her. Cho turned around and said, "Mobilicorpus!"  
  
Draco started to float out after her. He nearly yelled out a protest, but swallowed it when he realized Dumbledore wasn't looking; perhaps he could keep this embarrassment quiet. Cho floated him all the way down the stairs, and dropped the spell only when they got to a deserted classroom.  
  
Cho glared at Draco as she began the tutoring session. "I will help you pass your OWLS because I think it would be quite an achievement to get you through them."  
  
Draco said, "What do you mean by that?"  
  
Cho went on, "If at any time you object to my tutoring style or my methods of discipline, you can discontinue the tutoring sessions; that is entirely up to you. But if you want to pass your OWLS, you will do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it."  
  
"You can't talk to me like that!" Draco said.  
  
Cho flicked her wand, spoke a word, and hexed him into silence. Draco tried to lift the spell and failed. Cho started, "We will begin by reviewing the Gematria." Draco buckled down and started taking notes. He thought, It has been one of the worst days of my life so far, and I don't want to get anyone else angry with me. Even Professor Snape has turned against me, all for that tricksy Ravenclaw bint he plans on marrying. And Dumbledore won't help any of the Slytherins.  
  
Meanwhile, Emmy Vector had been quite startled by the sudden appearance of Narcissa Malfoy at her office. Emmy's hands were shaking as she held her papers, but she kept her voice steady as she said, "Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy. Is there something I can do for you?"  
  
Narcissa Malfoy looked her over. She replied, "Yes. I know my husband and son are acting like fools, and I want to see why."  
  
"I see. What can I do for you?"  
  
Narcissa replied, "It's more a matter of what you've already done."  
  
Emmy said, "What exactly are you referring to?"  
  
Narcissa said, "You seem to have reduced my husband and son to idiocy."  
  
Emmy's jaw tightened, as she fought to swallow down the retort that it hadn't been that difficult to do. She drew in a breath and said instead, "I do rather regret the situation. What do you suggest I do about it?"  
  
Narcissa said, "Well, that depends. Are you serious about marrying Snape?"  
  
Emmy replied emphatically, "Yes!"  
  
Narcissa raised her eyebrows and said, "Well, that does limit our options."  
  
Emmy said in a very clipped manner, "I am a Roman Catholic and there are certain things I will not do under any circumstances."  
  
Narcissa said, "Oh, some of my family were Catholic. I wanted to meet you because I was curious about you."  
  
"Really. I see," Emmy replied.  
  
Narcissa asked, "Are you familiar with Pope Alexander the Sixth? He was a direct ancestor of mine. "  
  
Emmy nodded her head, and said, "Rodrigo Borgia."  
  
"You know your history very well," Narcissa told her.  
  
"Yes, I do. I'm afraid I don't consider that particular ancestor of yours a role model," Emmy said.  
  
"I'm relieved to hear it," Narcissa replied. "Lucius is a bit of a twit, but I'd hate to see him poisoned. I had planned to warn you off my husband and son, but clearly that won't be necessary."  
  
Emmy nodded. "You are correct, Mrs. Malfoy. The only Slytherin I want is Severus Snape."  
  
Narcissa said, "I can't fault your loyalty, but I'm at a loss to understand your taste."  
  
Emmy replied dryly, "That's odd. I was just thinking the same thing about you."  
  
Narcissa chuckled and said, "You may do for Severus. I've known him for a long time too. I wanted you to know I appreciate what you're doing for my son. He needs to learn manners. They are important for everyone, but for Malfoys, they can be matters of life and death."  
  
Emmy replied, "I'm here to teach, Mrs. Malfoy, and I'm concerned for the well-being of all my students."  
  
Narcissa handed her a small black round device that looked like a powder case, and said, "You may need to get in touch with me on short notice, Professor Vector. Just open this up, and it will call me."  
  
Emmy took the device, and opened it up to look at what was inside. She saw only two mirrors. She closed it and asked Mrs. Malfoy, "Do you need a duplicate?"  
  
Narcissa shook her head and said, "No, my dear, I'll know how to find you. And now, I do have an urgent appointment elsewhere. I'll see myself out. Thank you very much, Professor Vector."  
  
"You're welcome, Mrs. Malfoy," Emmy said softly, as the door closed behind Narcissa Malfoy. Emmy shook her head and examined the device again. "I suppose I should have Severus or my brother look at this and see if there's any sort of booby-trap in it." She opened up a desk drawer and set it inside, and then proceeded to head off to lunch.  
  
At lunch, Emmy turned up her nose at the roast beef. It seemed strangely unappealing that day. She wanted colcannon, lots of it, and a nice hot fudge sundae for dessert. Or maybe two hot fudge sundaes.Professors McGonagall, Figg, Hootch, and Sprout watched Emmy with some concern as she ate her way through a heaping plate of colcannon, a hot fudge sundae, and a banana split. The male staff members did not seem to notice anything amiss. Hootch and Sprout shook their heads at the inattention of the men. McGonagall pursed her lips, and kept looking between Vector and Snape, as if she were at a Muggle tennis match. After lunch, McGonagall cornered Vector alone in the women's faculty washroom and said, "It's November, and you were eating an ice cream sundae and a banana split? You're too young for hot flashes, Emmy."  
  
Emmy replied as she washed her hands, "I was hungry for ice cream today. Is that so wrong, Minerva?"  
  
McGonagall raised an eyebrow and said, "It's a little strange, Emmy. Are you sure everything is all right?"  
  
Emmy said as she dried her hands, "I'm positive."  
  
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Let's work on that word positive, or as I understand the younger people call it, 'having a nine-month headache.' Is there something you need to be telling Severus?"  
  
At first, Emmy's expression was blank, but then the penny dropped and she started blushing. She replied, "Er, no. I don't really think so, Minerva, but thank you for asking. From what I gather from my mother the nurse, it takes a few weeks to develop food cravings, not a few days."  
  
McGonagall frowned. "That's right, your mother is a Squib and she probably doesn't know certain things."  
  
Emmy raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"  
  
Minerva gave her a tight smile. "Emmy, for one, there can be such a thing as prophetic symptoms. For another, if you're a witch, you know when you're pregnant, because your body starts dropping hints right away. Some witches have known they were pregnant before the man had his pants back on."  
  
Emmy turned a deeper red, thinking about Halloween night and All Saints morning. She said, "Really. I see. Thank you for the information, Minerva."  
  
Minerva nodded. "You're welcome. And do go to Poppy soon, my dear." She patted Emmy on the shoulder, and then left.  
  
Emmy walked out of the washroom very slowly as she thought, I could be pregnant. With Snape's baby. Severus Snape and I could be having a child together. The thought of a little girl or boy with Severus's brains and dark eyes, and hopefully her nose, came to her. A brilliant smile came to her face, and the students she passed in the halls took note of it. She shook her head. Not bloody likely. I didn't get pregnant in all the years I was married to Brendon, and my courses are so ruddy irregular they make a broken clock look reliable. At least you can get the right time from that twice a day. She pushed down the little voice in her head insisting that she and Brendon hadn't had sex often enough to make that a reliable test of her fertility or lack thereof, and that her courses weren't really all that irregular most of the time. If I couldn't conceive a child when I was in my late teens and early twenties, what chance do I have now that I'm turned thirty? Not only do I have Muggle blood, but I'm probably infertile to boot. And when Severus figures this out, he'll want to break it off with me. So it's best I break it off with him first.  
  
By now, her face had a fine frown on it, and she was clenching her jaw so tightly that her face was beginning to hurt. The students waiting in her classroom flinched at her expression. She's learning from Snape, they thought.  
  
End of Chapter 33 


	34. Yet Another Sunday

On the next Sunday morning, Snape met Zabini and Bulstrode at the Slytherin common room. He was pleased to see them ready and dressed appropriately for the occasion, although Bulstrode's light green dress robes were a bit unfortunate. Zabini looked proper in charcoal grey dress robes, although they did tend to drown him out a bit.  
  
Ernie Macmillan and Seamus Finnigan were shocked when Professor Snape, Millicent Bulstrode, and Blaise Zabini walked up the central aisle of Westminster Cathedral that Sunday morning. "Jaysus fecking Christ," Seamus whispered. "Macmillan, the fecking Slytherins are fecking invading."  
  
Ernie's eyes widened as he saw the other two students and Professor Snape. "It's a sign from God. The End Times are upon us. Armageddon is frigging coming soon."  
  
"Hush," Professor Vector hissed at them. "All are welcome in God's House; especially those most in need of His mercy. And watch your language, boys."  
  
Ernie and Seamus were well acquainted with Professor Vector's tone, and Auror Vector's frowns. They decided it would be best to keep quiet and discuss this strange development after Mass.  
  
Professor Snape had managed to get his hands on yet another missal during the week, and he had coached Bulstrode and Zabini about the ceremony. At least they would not all three disgrace themselves this week. He had warned Bulstrode in particular about this business of bringing the kneeler up and down with the foot alone. His fear was that if she tried it, she would set off the rest of the seats falling down like a row of dominoes.  
  
Millie and Blaise's eyes widened when they saw the priest wearing a green vestment. They looked at the priest, then at each other, then at Professor Snape. He nodded. Our color, Millie thought. Our House color, on the body of the priest himself, and on the hangings decorating the church. We do belong here, and there is a place for us. Green and silver fit in no less than gold and red do.  
  
All the Slytherins were shocked by the first reading, however. Not so much by the fact that the seven brothers had been tortured, but that they had defied their torturers to go ahead and take their hands and tongues, all for the sake of belief in their God. And that the brothers' belief in a life after death and punishment for those who had tortured them, had been recorded through all these years.  
  
Professor Snape had a fine scowl on his face during the psalm and the second reading. Millie started to look at the other members of the congregation. Michael Vector was sitting close to a young woman whose hair kept on changing colors. Millie frowned at this. She must have some sort of spell on her hair, the jammy cow.  
  
The priest finished off the Gospel reading with the words, "God is not the God of the dead, but of the living. All are alive for Him. This is the Gospel of the Lord."  
  
When the young woman turned around to shake hands, later on in the ceremony, Millie nearly swallowed her teeth. The young woman's face was changing as well as her hair. Oh, Merlin. She's a Metamorphamagus. And she seems to know Auror Vector awfully well. Millie started biting her lip, and kept watching the young woman and Auror Vector very closely.  
  
After Mass, the Vector siblings stood in the foyer, and talked with another man who had a vague resemblance to Ted Tonks, and a woman who looked rather like Emmy. "How do you do, Aunt Alix? How was France, Uncle Martin?" Emmy asked.  
  
"Just fine, thank you," Martin Tonks replied. He then caught sight of Ted Tonks. "Cousin Ted. How are you?"  
  
"Doing well, thank you," Ted Tonks said. He was with Andromeda Black and the young woman Metamorphamagus. Mike laughed and tapped the young woman on the arm. "Tonksey!"  
  
She grinned back at him. "Vector. Ready for another fun-filled week of work?"  
  
Mike said, "I'm on light duty, Tonksey, thanks to that Dementor. I'll be joining you and the rest of the lads and lasses again in about a month or so. Give my regards to Moody tomorrow."  
  
Millie opened her eyes wide. Tonksey is an Auror. And she must really be Tonks - oh, she's the daughter of Andromeda Black who ran off with that Muggle-born. I remember overhearing this when Mother and Grandmother would have tea, and the Mrs. Blacks would come and complain about their disgraceful children.  
  
Snape frowned. "Where is your Aunt Phillippa, Emmy?"  
  
Alix Tonks started to laugh. "My sister Phillippa joined the Anglican Church when she married Bennett Shacklebolt, Mr. Snape. It was quite a scandal in its day. At least, it was until Emmy's father ran off with her mother."  
  
"Oh, really," Snape said.  
  
Emmy blushed a bit, and Mike started frowning, and said, "Now, Auntie Alix, you know perfectly well that my mother's temporary vows were up, and she was free to leave if she wanted to."  
  
"Oh, I know that. But it was still so shocking back then, of course. Nowadays, of course, no one would think twice about it."  
  
"But running off with a Muggle-born like a Tonks is still a scandal, hey?" Ted Tonks put in. Now it was Alix Vector Tonks's turn to blush as Martin slid his arm around her shoulder.  
  
"That depends on the family, Ted," Martin Tonks said.  
  
Andromeda elbowed her husband in the ribs. "Ted, hush."  
  
Breakfast back at Hogwarts was a rather tense affair. Macmillan, Finnigan, and Bones were sitting on the edges of their seats, and Bulstrode and Zabini were glaring back at them.  
  
"Professor Vector, do they sing in the same style every single week?" Severus asked Emmy.  
  
"Of course. Why would they do otherwise?" Vector replied, in a puzzled tone.  
  
"Oh, I think it might be more interesting if they adapted some tunes from the Cure, or Echo and the Bunnymen, or Chris DeBurgh, and performed Schickele's Missa Hilarious once in a while."  
  
Vector choked on her tea, and liquid went spraying all over the table. "Severus, are you utterly daft? There is a time and a place for everything, and punk rock and Mass do not mix! The Americans are having a difficult time enough getting rid of that God-awful folk music, let alone punk rock."  
  
"And what's wrong with folk music and punk rock, Emmy?"  
  
"Nothing. It's perfectly fine in its place, but it really doesn't fit in the milieu of a century-old cathedral."  
  
The students fled the breakfast table as quickly as they could.  
  
"Well, if the milieu and the music have to match, why wasn't the choir singing in Latin or Byzantine plainchant?"  
  
"The Protestants stole our people and our churches, so we stole their music. Fair is fair." Emmy gave Severus a firm nod.  
  
Now it was Severus's turn to choke on his tea at the look on Emmy's face. He started thinking, Perhaps this might work after all. "Emmy, could we sit and mark essays together?"  
  
Emmy looked up at the ceiling, where the day looked to be crisp and clear. She nodded. "Agreed, if we can sit up in my rooms. I want to see the sunlight while it's here."  
  
"Agreed. I'll meet you up there, Professor Vector."  
  
Emmy gave Severus wary looks as the two of them marked essays in her sitting room. They were sitting across from each other at her large table, and she could look out the window. She had been quite startled by his attendance at Mass, and his bringing Bulstrode and Zabini along, to boot. He hadn't really seemed to be listening after the reading about the martyred family in Maccabees, and his motives for attending concerned her. Why is he coming to Mass with me? I don't think he really believes in much of anything at all. I don't know what he believes in; I only know that he was in the Death Eaters at one point. This isn't going to work. I have to give him an out.  
  
She cleared her throat, and said, "Severus, you do realize, don't you, that you don't have to convert to Catholicism if you don't want to or if you don't believe in Christianity? Father Sorin may try to pressure you, but he is from the thirteenth century, after all, so he's not up with the most current thought on the matter."  
  
Snape snorted. "I am only a pagan out of pure habit, as most pure-blood wizards are. I have never been particularly attached to my religion, and I haven't been to services since the last funeral I was at. For you, your religion makes a difference in what you say and do; for me, it doesn't and never has. I am more than willing to convert if it will make matters easier for all of us."  
  
Emmy looked at him over the essay, and swallowed. "I see. Thank you, Severus. It struck me that I have been treating you unfairly, and I didn't want to force you into anything you were uncomfortable with or didn't believe."  
  
Snape's eyes were back on his essays, and he went on with covering them with red ink. He said, "I don't think I'll be too uncomfortable. After all, if the Catholic Church has room for the Jesuits, it should have some room for me."  
  
Emmy looked at her fiancée, thinking of whom else the Catholic Church had had room for over the centuries, such as Narcissa Malfoy's ancestor Pope Alexander Borgia. She swallowed again. "Thank you," she said.  
  
Snape said, "Are you worried about me, or about your church if I convert?"  
  
Emmy choked down a laugh. "That's not an 'or' question, Severus. And I think it'd be an even contest as to which I should worry about more."  
  
Snape set his essays down. "I am curious about something, Emmy. You gave up the wizarding world, but you never gave up Catholicism? Why would you want to stay in that minority?"  
  
Emmy sighed and set her own quill back in the inkpot. She looked over at her sofa as she talked. "'To whom would we go, O Lord? You have the words of everlasting life,' and we have much better stories." she murmured to herself. Then she looked back at Severus and spoke more loudly, "There was pressure from my family to stay in the wizarding world, and pressure to leave Catholicism from the Muggles I encountered at Oxford. 'What's an intelligent young woman such as yourself doing in the Roman Catholic Church, of all things?' And that was one of the more polite questions. To rebel against my parents and society, I gave up magic but not Catholicism. At the stage of life when I was most likely to leave, I had the determination not to succumb to persecution."  
  
Snape started laughing. "What's so funny?" Emmy asked him.  
  
Snape retorted, "I was thinking how much of your life can be summed up as determination not to succumb."  
  
"Oh. Does it bother you?"  
  
"Of course not. Everybody's questioning your judgment will keep you in this marriage."  
  
Emmy started laughing at that point, and Snape got up and started rubbing her shoulders. "Oh, thank you, Severus. That does feel good."  
  
"You're welcome." He bent over and kissed her on the temple.  
  
"Severus," she muttered, in a warning tone.  
  
"I won't do anything that you don't want me to."  
  
"That's the problem, Severus."  
  
"What problem? I don't see any problem."  
  
Emmy sighed and looked up at Severus. She caught his hand in hers. It was rough under hers, due no doubt to all the hand-washing he had to do from his work. She made a mental note to lend him some of the hand cream that her mother the nurse swore by. "The problem is that what I want you to do to me and what I should allow you to do to me are two separate sets. There is some overlap between the sets, but they are not identical yet."  
  
"Eh? Come again?"  
  
"Sorry. Mathematician jargon. Are you familiar with Venn diagrams?"  
  
A diagram of a Venn. First you catch your Venn."Ah, yes. The overlapping circles? I do remember those from Arithmancy."  
  
"Yes, the overlapping circles." Emmy made a gesture with her hands, forming two circles with her fingers and thumbs. "Here is what I want you to do with me," a large circle with her thumb and middle finger, on the left hand, "and here is what I should allow you to do with me," a smaller circle with thumb and fingers on the right hand.  
  
"Well, how much overlap is there?" I can think of plenty of things to do with my hands like this and that.  
  
"Not as much as you want, that's for sure. And don't pretend to be Neville Longbottom with me."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"You know perfectly well how Venn diagrams work."  
  
"So I do. And shall we experiment to find out how much overlap there is, Emmy my dear?" He pulled her up from her chair, and guided her over to the sofa. Emmy had a smile on her face as Severus pulled her down onto his lap.  
  
At the same time, Blaise Zabini and Millie Bulstrode were talking in the Slytherin common room. "So, what did you think, Millie?" Blaise asked her.  
  
"That was absolutely incredible. The sights, the sounds, the smells -- Now I understand what my family is parodying," Millie replied.  
  
Blaise said, "I think I'm going to go back next week."  
  
"Why? Are you getting religion, Zabini?"  
  
Blaise gave her a tight smile. "Maybe, or maybe I'm just doing research to become a Satanist. Or maybe it's that I'm a teenager and it's time and past for me to freak out my family. I could even start going to church regularly."  
  
"Why stop there? Why not tell them you're studying for the Catholic priesthood?"  
  
Zabini replied, "Oh, they'd just think I was interested in unnatural sex."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
Blaise said, "I don't think I've exhausted the natural possibilities yet."  
  
Millie decided that she didn't really want to know anything more about Zabini's sex life, or lack thereof. She made her excuses, and went to take a nap. Parkinson, Greengrass, and the other Slytherin girls wouldn't be awake for quite some time, so she could get some peace and quiet.  
  
Later on, in the afternoon, Millie Bulstrode was in the library, looking through the old Hogwarts Leaving books. She had found the ones for Professor Vector and Auror Vector's years quite easily. The Old Bastard had been a skinnier bastard back then, but the pictures of Michael Vector as a baby and as a seventeen-year-old were quite pleasing. But there weren't any pictures in any of the Leaving books from about 1983 on corresponding to the children she had seen in Professor Vector's office. She sighed. She would have to try a different tack. She had already checked Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy, but had found no entries on the Vectors in it. So the Vectors aren't good enough for the British purebloods. Not surprising if Professor Vector's grandfather was half Egyptian Muslim and half German Jew, and didn't know whom his maternal grandfather was. And if his son married an Irish Squib, there would probably be even more prejudice.  
  
She started looking through the index for the Daily Prophet, 1960- 1970. Birth of Michael Vector, son of Edmund and Aoife Vector, recorded in 1960, birth of a Theodore Jude Vector, son of Nicholas and Elizabeth Vector, recorded in 1960, birth and death of a Joseph Columcille Vector, son of Edmund and Aoife Vector, recorded in 1962. Birth and death of a John James Vector, son of Edmund and Aoife Vector, recorded in 1964. Birth of a Mary Elizabeth Fatima Vector, daughter of Edmund and Aoife Vector, recorded in 1966. Birth of a Margaret Anne Vector, daughter of Edmund and Aoife Vector, recorded in 1969.  
  
Millie frowned. The Vectors had apparently been a prolific family. And she had to sort out which Vector was related to which. But assuming that Michael Vector and Mary Elizabeth Fatima (what a name) were Auror Vector and Professor Vector, she had a starting point. Margaret Anne Vector should have left Hogwarts sometime between 1986 and 1988.  
  
Draco found Millie in the library, surrounded by stacks of index books, Hogwarts Leaving books, and old Daily Prophets, and scraps of parchment with scribblings on them.  
  
"Whatever are you up to, Bulstrode?" he asked.  
  
Millie made a face. "History of Magic research," she lied. "I need to do some extra credit if I'm to pass."  
  
Draco frowned. "Bulstrode, I know that class is boring as hell, but you need to stay awake in there. We have to keep ahead of the Gryffies and Hufflepuffs."  
  
Millie rolled her eyes. "I'm trying, Malfoy. Oh, would you happen to know if there's some sort of general registry book I can look at to see all the births and deaths in the Wizarding World? Who's related to whom?"  
  
Draco laughed. "Your mother obviously doesn't tell you anything useful at all, does she, Bulstrode? Are you looking to see if Auror Vector is married or has children?"  
  
"Sod off, Malfoy," Millie replied.  
  
Draco's eyes gleamed. "Bulstrode and Vector, sitting in a tree." he started to sing-song. He broke off. "Although it'd have to be a pretty big tree to support the two of you."  
  
Millie said, "You really liked the taste of those slugs, didn't you, Malfoy? And at least neither Auror Vector or I are half-pints like some other people I could mention."  
  
Draco sneered. "Well, he's a quarter-Mudblood half-Irishman, and you're part Troll, so I suppose it would be a good match."  
  
Millie made a rude gesture, and Draco snickered. "Got to you, didn't I, Bulstrode? And by the way, you want to look at Who's Who in the Wizarding World." He sauntered off, having in his own mind won the exchange.  
  
Millie was relieved to see him go. She Summoned the book Draco had mentioned, and she pulled out the 1970-1980 index for the Daily Prophet. Yet more births here to Edmund and Aoife Vector. Angela Agnes in 1971, Kevin Matthew in 1973, and Brian Luke in 1974. And then she looked at the death entries for the Vectors. There were a large number of them clustered in 1975, and all on the same date. Angela Agnes, Brian Luke, Elizabeth Anne MacGowan, Kevin Matthew, Margaret Anne, Mary Madeline, Nathaniel John, Theodore Jude.  
  
Millie started matching birth and death dates for all the Vectors. She bit her lower lip at the results for Margaret, Angela, Kevin, and Brian. They tally with how old those ghosts looked. So why did the Old Bat and I, of all people, see them when their siblings, or whom I presume to be their siblings, couldn't? This is really strange. She gathered up her notes, making sure she had all of them, and Banished the books back to their shelves.  
  
She Summoned the copy of the Evening Prophet for August 10, 1975. Attack on Diagon Alley, the headline read. Millie Summoned more and more newspapers from that week. A poison gas attack by the Death Eaters. Oh, poor Michael. No wonder he became an Auror. She stared at the last picture, of a fine family of six, with their proud, happy parents, which was identical to the one she had seen in Professor Vector's chambers. All his little brothers gone, and two of his little sisters. Small wonder he's so protective of Professor Vector now. She's the only one left. She pulled out the 1974 issue of the Prophet that announced Brian Luke Vector's birth. And their mother wasn't that old. Why didn't she have any more children?  
  
She had some free time, as she was finished with all her essays, and she decided that she would go and see if she could find the Fat Friar. After all, he was a ghost himself, so he might be able to explain to her why she and Professor Snape could see the ghost Vectors, but at different ages.  
  
Millie wandered the castle, and finally found a door that she had never seen before, and a smell of flat incense. Not as overpowering as Professor Trelawney's, but definitely incense. She heard a mumbling in Latin, which seemed to be coming from behind the door. She put her hand to the door, and opened it up. Inside, the chapel glittered with gold, glass, and color. The Fat Friar was there before the altar, mumbling in Latin. "Friar?" she asked. "May I ask you something?"  
  
The Friar turned around. "Ah, Miss Bulstrode. How do you do?"  
  
"I'm doing well, thank you, Friar. Just a bit curious about something."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Professor Snape and I saw some ghosts last week, of Professor Vector's younger brothers and sisters. We saw them at different ages. And Professor Vector and her brother didn't see them."  
  
Father Sorin sighed. "Professor Snape's reasons are none of your concern, Miss Bulstrode."  
  
Millie shrugged. "I was more curious about why we saw them differently."  
  
"And again, I cannot tell you that, Miss Bulstrode."  
  
Millie changed tack. "Why didn't Professor Vector and Auror Vector see their siblings?"  
  
Father Sorin sighed. "They think that their brothers and sisters are dead and in Heaven with God."  
  
"And they're not?" Millie asked.  
  
Father Sorin bit his lip. "They have volunteered to come back, as I did when I was murdered. And apparently it is not part of their task to have their older brother and sister see them yet."  
  
"Why did I see them, then?" Millie whispered.  
  
Father Sorin shrugged. "That I do not know, Miss Bulstrode, but I can deduce that you are important to the Vector family somehow."  
  
"Me?"  
  
Father Sorin shrugged. "Why and how I do not know. But that you are important to them, yes, I sense that."  
  
Millie remembered Professor Snape's advice. "Friar, Professor Snape told me to ask you more about Catholicism. He said, 'The Catholic religion seems to be fairly important to the Vectors. You will probably want to inform yourself more about it before you commit yourself even further. Professor Vector seems to like spending time in there on her knees, chanting until her voice wears out and she can't get up without assistance. It appears to be some sort of strange Catholic thing, doing penance for what a thirteenth-century celibate tells her are sins.' And I didn't know what you would consider to be a sin."  
  
Father Sorin raised an eyebrow. "Well. Very interesting. Let us sit down, child." 


	35. Letters, Tests, and Appointments

Chapter 35  
  
Severus Snape glared at his fiancée that Monday at the noon meal in the Great Hall. She hadn't been at breakfast. And now she was sucking on another raw lemon. What does she need to do that for? We didn't do anything all that wrong. I didn't get that many of her clothes off, and we didn't have intercourse. So what does she have to feel guilty about? He glared at her. She dipped her head, and her face started to turn red. And she's blushing, the hypocritical wench. She was happy enough yesterday with what we were doing..Ravenclaws. Absolutely no sense of discretion. This is never going to work. If she were a Slytherin, she'd know that if you can't be good, you should at least be discreet.  
  
And now she was eating colcannon and a hot fudge sundae, for the sixth time in the last two weeks, by his count. Is she pregnant? And if so, why hasn't she told me about it yet? Does she not trust me to do the right thing? Does she think I'll poison her, or rid her of the child?  
  
An owl and a tern flew into the Great Hall, and both headed for Snape. They dropped their letters in front of him. Emmy's eyebrows went up as she saw the handwriting on one. She picked it up. "Severus, what is my mother doing writing to you?"  
  
Snape frowned as he regarded the other letter, with his mother's handwriting on it. "I presume that your father wishes to meet with me about our engagement, and he had your mother write the invitation." He took the letter from her hand, and opened it.  
  
The letter read, "Dear Mr. Snape: We request the pleasure of your company for tea at half-past four on Thursday afternoon, the seventeenth of September. Sincerely yours, Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Vector."  
  
He set it down. "Do you have other commitments at four-thirty this Thursday, Emmy?"  
  
She nodded. "Who's the other letter from, Severus?"  
  
"My mother."  
  
"Oh. And where does she live?"  
  
"She resides in the hinterlands of Peru, exploring pre-Inca magical remains."  
  
"Very interesting."  
  
"She has always been fascinated with the pre-Inca cultures; she left England immediately after my father died to pursue her research."  
  
"I see. When was this?"  
  
"Nineteen-seventy-eight." Snape crushed the letter from his mother in his hand, and stuffed it into a pocket somewhere in his robes. He took the letter from her parents and carefully placed it into his pocket.  
  
At the Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang stole a glance at Draco Malfoy. It was a pity that he was from a Dark family. And that he was such an annoying prat. He was cute. Not as manly as Cedric had been, but he had that touch of veela about him. And his father was attractive, in a thoroughly evil way. If Draco grew up to look like his father, he would be quite easy on the eyes. And Draco was intelligent, and had a wicked sense of humor. Cho's mouth twitched at the memory of the badges he had made last year. What am I doing, thinking of him in that way? I'm being unfaithful to Cedric. But Cedric is dead and buried. If only Draco wasn't a Malfoy. If only he would turn to the Light. She sighed, and turned her attention back to her lunch and her friend Marietta.  
  
Draco had gone through a most frustrating tutoring session with Cho that morning. Not only was she beautiful and older than he was, she was also quite capable of mopping the floor with him in terms of finding every single last mistake in his Arithmancy work. He glared at her as she sat and ate her lunch. Stuck-up Ravenclaw wench. Thinks she's too good and too intelligent for the Malfoys? I'd love to show her a thing or two. She can follow in Vector's footsteps. We can be just like Professor Snape and Vector. He sat at the Slytherin table, and watched her at the Ravenclaw table. She'd look so sexy in a little black, green, or red leather outfit, and carrying a buggy whip. Hah. I should draw her like that.  
  
His fingers itched to get at his pencils again. It was a deep, dark secret, not to be known outside a few select members of Slytherin House, but he loved drawing and painting. He sometimes wished that he had gone to France or Italy for school, but his mother had been firm. And his father would not have permitted his only son and heir to go study art. "That's for queers, Draco. You have to be a man." Father is wrong about that. Male artists can get plenty of female groupies if they choose, and it's a wonderful excuse to look at naked women.  
  
Once classes were over, the Slytherins were studying in their house common room. Draco watched Millie working on something, and smiling gently while she wrote. Must be either Arithmancy or a letter to that Auror Vector. She looks almost passable when she thinks about either of them.  
  
He shook his head. Poor Bulstrode. I can almost feel sorry for her. Her family will never push for her to marry, and they'll never let her marry Michael Vector. Although I suppose I should feel grateful that the Bulstrodes aren't pushing for her to marry. I'd be a prime candidate, along with Crabbe and Goyle. But then again, everyone's pushing Pansy Parkinson at me, and she's not the type of girl I want to marry. I want somebody prettier and classier, and never mind how much her family supports the Dark Lord.  
  
Draco finished his essay, and looked around. Pansy was nowhere to be seen. Excellent. I can get some sketching in for a change. Draco took a scrap of parchment out, and started working on a sketch of Cho, in a tight black costume, holding a whip in her right hand, her wand at her left side.  
  
Millie, meanwhile, was rereading a letter from Michael Vector. Dear Miss Bulstrode, the letter said. Thank you very much for your letter and your kind wishes about my speedy recovery. It was a pleasure to see you at Mass today. I think you startled my sister and your Catholic classmates quite a bit, but I think that you, Mr. Blaise Zabini, and Professor Snape probably enjoyed that aspect of it. I hope that you are doing well, and that you are recovered from the trauma of seeing a Dementor on school grounds. I am still most impressed by your skill in conjuring a Patronus, your courage in staying during the attack to assist me if you could, and your judgment in not making matters worse for me during the attack. There are many individuals in the Ministry whom I could not say the same for.  
  
To answer your questions about the qualifications to be an Auror: Defense is essential, as is Advanced Potions. Arithmancy is quite useful, even though not required, as it allows improvisation of spells in the field, and careful analysis of data at the office. Although if what my sister says about your skills at Arithmancy is true, I would give you a recommendation to the Unspeakables. You might also want to consider corresponding with my father, Edmund Vector, who is a professor of mathematics at a university in Ireland. He was Hogwarts, Ravenclaw, 1937, and has been employed both in the wizarding and the Muggle world. I can introduce you to him if you would like it.  
  
I hope that the cloak I conjured for you with Duplicatus is still in good shape and keeping you warm on these crisp November mornings. I know it doesn't exactly fall within the standard uniform, but I hope that you preserve it and wear it when you can. I thought you looked quite beautiful in it. Don't worry about your idiot male classmates; if they're worthy of you, they'll see your true beauty in time, as I do now. And if they never do, do you want to be with fool boys like those?  
  
Yours, Michael Vector.  
  
Millie sighed, more with sorrow than romantic delight. My parents will never approve of him. An Auror? Somebody that can kill a Dementor? And so much older than me? Ah well, I can save all these letters for when I'm old and alone, to remind myself that somebody loved me once.  
  
She looked around. Parkinson wasn't around, Zabini wouldn't take the letter from her, and Malfoy was working on something of his own. Maybe a sketch, although he had such little skill at drawing that she couldn't tell what it was. She started writing back: Dear Auror Vector, please call me Millie. I think that we should be on first-name terms; after all, I owe you a wizard's debt. Thank you very much for the information about the requirements to be an Auror. I would be delighted to meet your father. The cloak is in excellent condition and keeps me very warm indeed. .Yours, Millie. She paused, and reread the letter. Not too forward, and not too cold. I think. She sealed up the letter, and left for the Owlry.  
  
Meanwhile, Snape was sitting in his quarters, reading the letter from his mother. It said:  
  
Dear Severus: I have been informed by reliable sources that you are engaged to be married. Is this true? Think carefully before you answer. As I understand it, you have gotten yourself engaged to one Emmy Vector Donovan, who is a colleague of yours at Hogwarts. I have been told that she is human, female, a widow, and a Ravenclaw. From what I understand, she is also half-Irish, a Roman Catholic, childless, at least one-quarter Muggle, and a relation of that awful Michael Vector who was in your year and a Beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. However, I have also been informed that there are rumors of criminal charges against her in America. Narcissa Malfoy tells me that she has met Professor Donovan, or Vector as she refers to her, and thinks that she might do for you. I can usually trust Narcissa's judgment, but I hear from Mrs. Wilkes that there has been a spot of trouble between Professor Donovan and Lucius Malfoy. Sincerely yours, Your Mother.  
  
Snape hissed with irritation. "Narcissa, did you have to tell my mother that I was engaged? And Mrs. Wilkes knows about this as well? Why do we even bother having newspapers, when the wizarding world is so small?" He picked up a piece of parchment, and started writing back:  
  
Dear Mother: The information that I am engaged to be married is correct. So is the information about my fiancée's gender, species, marital status, House affiliation, and lack of children. She goes by her maiden name professionally and personally. None of this is secret. Answering this does not require careful thought on my part, as it is all public knowledge. We have not set a date yet. When we do, of course you will be invited to the ceremony, and in fact, you are welcome to meet her when the two of you are on the same continent. I wish I had equally good information about your current activities, but I only know what you see fit to enlighten me with. I am glad my forthcoming marriage has aroused your interest. Very sincerely, your son, Severus Snape.  
  
He sealed the letter, and handed it to the tern, which had followed him down from the Great Hall.  
  
On that Tuesday, Emmy Vector took in a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. She took out a plain silver ring, and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. The rings that Brendon had given her were currently at the bottom of the Chicago River, or at least that was where she had thrown them after sorting through some of his personal effects after his death, and finding certain letters and pictures. She put her engagement ring back on, and smiled at the effect. Much better than that awful gold-and-diamond monstrosity of a set the Cheating Bastard gave to me.  
  
She checked her to-do list once again. Off-campus: stop by Boots, pick up test. She had "forgotten" to do it twice already since her talk with McGonagall. And at least this way, she wouldn't be too embarrassed by buying a pregnancy test if she looked married. Not that anyone would care, as she was planning on Apparating to Manchester and buying it there, and she didn't know a soul in Manchester, but with her luck, somebody would run into her. Fortunately, she was lucky for a change, and saw only strange Muggles at the chemist's.  
  
Once she got the test home to her flat, she of course, had to take it. What a messy and inconvenient procedure. Muggles. But I don't remember the spell for the pregnancy test, and Ma's never really trusted magical tests all that much anyway. Says that witches don't take account of certain things, says they take too much for granted, and that the Muggle knowledge is more reliable, as it's gained through hard work and logic. She watched the clock as she waited. Only one line. Negative. No baby. She let out a faint chuckle. "Did you really expect anything else, Emmy Vector?" she said to herself. She cleared away the testing equipment, and washed her hands.  
  
She looked at her reflection in the silent mirror. Crying at the drop of a hat, a bit knackered, occasional queasiness, breasts sore, running to the washroom every hour. But I did have my courses, and the test results say I'm not pregnant. So what could it possibly be? Flu? Cancer? Hysterical pregnancy?  
  
She started crying. "I'm going nutters, I really am. A hysterical pregnancy, of all things. I should be relieved that I'm not pregnant out of wedlock, instead of worrying about whether I'm infertile. And Severus doesn't want children anyway." She kept crying until there were no more tears left.  
  
On that Wednesday, Emmy was at Hogwarts, thinking that she must be going absolutely insane. The symptoms had continued. If it's a hysterical pregnancy, it's supposed to stop when I figure out that it's all in my head, isn't it? So what in Mother Mary's name is it? Cancer? Flu? Prophetic symptoms of a pregnancy years in the future? Standard Arithmancer madness, or a variation on such? She didn't dare ask any of her Hogwarts colleagues. She wanted to let them suspect that something had happened, rather than confirm their suspicions and get fired for violating the morals clause. And all her female first cousins were closer to her mother's age than hers.  
  
That evening, Snape stopped by her quarters. She let him into her sitting room. He closed the door behind him, and sat down on her sofa. He asked her, "Emmy, er, are you - er, er, -- Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?"  
  
She nodded at him, her face lit by candlelight. She said, "I did, and it came back negative."  
  
Snape snorted. "Well, you should have revised more."  
  
"Severus!" She brought her hands to her hips. "It is not funny." She started to pace, and to sniffle.  
  
He watched her, and started remembering Father Sorin's advice. Severus cleared his throat. "Emmy, I have neglected an important matter. There is something I need to ask you."  
  
Emmy sniffled, and said, "What is it, Severus?"  
  
"Will you marry me?"  
  
"Yes, Severus."  
  
Severus let out a relieved breath. "Good. Now all I have to do is secure your father's permission to marry you."  
  
She spluttered, "Severus! Is that really necessary?"  
  
"Father Sorin and the Baron seemed to think so."  
  
" Severus, it's the twentieth century. What say do you think my family has in this?"  
  
He said, "If they agree to it, they will put pressure on you to marry me. If they do not, you will probably elope with me to spite them. So it is a win-win situation for me. And I imagine they'll have plenty to say about you marrying me."  
  
She sighed. "Severus, I am a thirty-year-old widow who's eloped once before with a Muggle. Why do you think my family will have anything to say about our marriage? What about your family?"  
  
"Your brother seems to have plenty to say," Severus retorted.  
  
Emmy rolled her eyes. "My brother is an idiot, a complete Gryffindork despite his House. One of my father's sisters was in Slytherin, for heaven's sake!"  
  
"And your father was in which House?"  
  
"Ravenclaw, and my mother is a Squib."  
  
Severus sighed. "Both my parents were Slytherin, and so were their parents. Trust me, Emmy my dear, both my family and yours will have quite a great deal to say. And if they don't I'm sure we can help them along."  
  
Emmy laughed at this. She then asked, "But wouldn't conversion to Catholicism put a crimp in your Death Eater cover?"  
  
Snape said, "Absolutely not. Look at the Borgia popes, and the American and Irish sex scandals. My only problem is explaining why I'm getting married instead of joining the priesthood."  
  
"Tell them that you didn't want to be called Father-What-A-Waste."  
  
Snape asked, "Waist? Have I gained weight?"  
  
She replied, "No, it's w-a-s-t-e."  
  
"Could you clarify that?"  
  
Emmy grinned and said, "That it would be a waste for you to be celibate." She embraced him and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
Snape's arms went around her, and he muttered, "Bad eyesight or insanity on your part. It has to be one of those two. Whatever it is, I hope they never find a cure."  
  
Emmy smiled. She said to herself, "Mmm. I'll have to make lists of my relatives to keep you away from; one of the easily scandalized relatives & one of the relatives who tell worse jokes than you. Aunt Dorothy will get a category all to herself."  
  
Snape frowned. "Well, holding that in reserve, what can you tell me about your mother and father?"  
  
Emmy replied, "He's very English. She isn't."  
  
"Expand on that, if you please."  
  
Emmy said, "My brother takes after my mother."  
  
Snape dropped his arms, let her go, and said, "Oh ye gods."  
  
Emmy went on, "My father is quieter."  
  
Snape said, "That doesn't tell me very much."  
  
"Well, if my father had attacked the Dementor, it wouldn't have known it was under attack until it turned around and its head fell off."  
  
"Wonderful. My future mother-in-law is a berserker, and my future father-in-law is the grim Reaper."  
  
Emmy replied, "He seldom gets angry."  
  
Snape did not find this terribly reassuring. She had not denied the characterization. He said, "But I assume he does have strong feelings about you and your well-being."  
  
Emmy replied, "Of course, Severus."  
  
Snape sighed and said, "Well, we have that in common." He drew himself up to his full height. "Emmy, I will see you on Friday, I presume?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, Severus. And say hello to my parents for me. Best of luck." 


	36. Meet the Parents

Chapter 36 - Meet the Parents II  
  
On that Thursday, Snape re-read the note from Emmy's parents again. I thought that I would be talking to her father alone, and doing the old traditional "ask him for her hand." Is this where the Vector family has a lot to say about our engagement? He sighed and readied himself for the Floo trip. He wound up emerging in a fireplace set in a hallway, with a mirror hanging on the wall and a Muggle coat rack standing on the floor, with cloaks, Muggle coats, and umbrellas stuffed into it. He vaguely remembered it from the visit with Emmy a few weeks earlier. He turned his attention to Aoife and Edmund Vector.  
  
Aoife Vector was a small, somewhat plump woman, with blond hair pinned up on top of her head, and blue eyes. Not as plump as Mrs. Weasley, but a pleasantly cuddly armful. Snape suddenly remembered his classmates joking about "Watch the mother to see what the daughter will look like." By that standard, he had little to worry about. Edmund Vector had his arm around his wife. He was a tall, lean, weather-beaten man with sharp brown eyes, graying dark brown hair cut as short as any Muggle's, and dressed in clothing of a style that Snape had seen in pictures from the unit on World War II in the Muggle Studies texts when the Muggle Studies professor was preparing outlines in the staff common room. Snape decided that Emmy must have taken after her mother in build, and her father in coloration.  
  
Something about Edmund and Aoife Vector triggered a memory for Snape of what the Vector parents had looked like the first time he ever saw them, on the King's Cross platform with six children to watch, not just two. He realized they looked much sadder than the first time he ever saw them. And I am responsible for that.  
  
"How do you do, Mr. Snape?" Edmund Vector asked him.  
  
"Quite well, thank you. And yourself? Mrs. Vector?"  
  
"Quite well. The tea is ready, Mr. Snape."  
  
Snape followed the Vectors into their sitting room, and Edmund waved his wand to summon the tea-things. Snape noticed out of the corner of his eye that the Vectors had pictures of all their children up; Emmy and Mike at every age, and pictures of the younger children as well. The ones who never got a chance to grow up, thanks to you, Snape.  
  
The conversation was at first muted while everyone started in on the tea, and then turned to the weather and Quidditch. Edmund had some interesting anecdotes about his colleagues in the chemistry department and their hapless students, and Snape found himself chucking a few times and telling stories to match Edmund's.  
  
After the petit fours had gone around the table, Aoife asked, "So, Mr. Snape, you and my daughter have worked together for several years now. How is it you have suddenly decided to get married?"  
  
Snape tried to give her his "Gaudy weekend" smile, that was normally reserved for rich Slytherin alumni such as Lucius Malfoy, and replied, "Would you believe that we just suddenly fell in love?"  
  
Aoife said, "No. What happened, Mr. Snape?"  
  
Snape set his cup of tea down, and began, "Well, one very hot day just before the start of term." He told them a fair amount of the story, leaving out Lucius Malfoy's interactions with Emmy.  
  
Edmund screwed up his face, briefly pinched the bridge of his nose, and then took his hand down and glared at Snape. "So having known my daughter professionally for some years, you fell in love with her when she belly- danced with her snake in the Great Hall at Hogwarts."  
  
Snape asked, "What snake? There was no snake involved in her dance."  
  
Edmund drawled, "I stand corrected." He paused, and let the silence build.  
  
Snape sighed and said, "In the course of the bet, we got to know each other better, and she showed great kindness and concern to one of my students, which we in Slytherin don't expect from outsiders. I also saw her behave with great courage and level-headedness under trying circumstances."  
  
Edmund snorted. "Courage, yes. Level-headedness? Don't try to fool me about my own daughter."  
  
Snape said, "I won't go into detail, but yes, I have seen her behave with level-headedness."  
  
Aoife glanced at her husband, and said, "She must finally be acting like you, Edmund. "  
  
Snape blinked for one moment, at the awful mental picture of Lucius Malfoy making advances on Edmund Vector. For some reason, the image of a barracuda taking on a shark came to mind.  
  
Edmund's lips twitched. "How is Lucius Malfoy these days?"  
  
Snape replied, calmly, coolly, and as a professional spy, "I believe he's well."  
  
Aoife pursed her lips, and said, "What's all this about?"  
  
Snape said, "Lucius Malfoy's son Draco is a student at Hogwarts and in Emmy's Arithmancy class. Lucius tried to bully her, and made insulting remarks about her religion."  
  
Aoife narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Snape, is that true?"  
  
Snape nodded. "It is."  
  
Aoife said, in a practiced mother's tone, "Then tell me the rest of the truth."  
  
Snape involuntarily responded to the tone and said, "He also attempted to harass her in connection with our bet."  
  
Edmund set down his teacup with a menacing clink. "Oh, really. She did not inform me of this."  
  
Snape replied, "She dealt with it, as I said, courageously and level- headedly."  
  
Edmund muttered, "You mean she didn't use an Unforgiveable in front of witnesses. She's learned something after all."  
  
Snape was perturbed on her behalf and his own. What has this family found it necessary to do? And what has Emmy learned from her father? "She is very well thought of by everyone at Hogwarts, with the exceptions of Lucius and Draco Malfoy."  
  
The corner of Edmund's mouth twitched. "I see. Mr. Snape, I have to step into my office for a moment to get something. Would you mind waiting here?"  
  
His tone triggered Snape's memories of dealing with the Ministry, in that dreadful limbo after he had confessed to Dumbledore and turned Ministry's Evidence. He had never been sure if the Aurors had wanted to execute him, or if they were merely willing to subject him to painful and highly embarrassing forms of magical restraint. He nodded and sat stone still. Edmund left the room, quiet as a cat, or a black panther on the hunt.  
  
Aoife went to clear the tea things away. She seemed quite irritated, moving very quickly, slamming things around, et cetera. Now you know where your fiancée gets it from. He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Vector?" he said, hesitantly.  
  
She looked up at him. "Yes, Mr. Snape?" she replied.  
  
He paused. How do I bring this up.."You seem to be upset about something, Mrs. Vector."  
  
Aoife Vector's blue eyes narrowed. She hissed, "Yes, I am. I am extremely upset about my daughter bringing you home as her fiancé. I know now from Michael that you were involved with the Death Eaters. I don't wish to say anything to her, yet, but I will before it's too late to stop this."  
  
Snape's face froze. "I see." Yet another person who couldn't look past the Mark on his arm.  
  
"For all I know, you could have been the one responsible for the poison gas that killed my children."  
  
Snape drew in a breath, and thought, Oh, God. Father Sorin warned me this would be difficult, but I had no idea.He cleared his throat. "I did not conduct the attack, and I did not manufacture the gas," he replied.  
  
Unfortunately, Aoife heard the omission he made. "So you were the one who came up with the formula for that hellish stuff, you frigging bastard?"she said. She hit him across the face, hard.  
  
Snape's first instinct was to grab her wrists and stop her, but one look at her face convinced him to hold his hand. Besides, it's not as if I don't deserve it.  
  
Aoife hit him in the stomach. "You're the one responsible for my brother- in-law's whole family dying?" She hit him again, on the jaw.  
  
"You're the one responsible for my sons and daughters dying in agony, choking on their own phlegm and blood?" Another hit to the lower abdomen. Snape fell off his chair and sank down to his knees, groaning.  
  
"You're the one responsible for making me barren?" Aoife kicked him. Snape let out another groan.  
  
Aoife let out a scream, and went after Snape's face. He brought his arm up to protect his eyes from her fingers. He felt her nails tear at his face and arm, felt the blood running down his cheeks. He cringed as he knelt on the floor, waiting for the next hit. And the hell of it was; he deserved everything this woman wanted to do to him.  
  
He heard sobs, rusty-sounding as if she hadn't cried in years, and he took his arm away from his eyes. She was looking at her own hands and at his blood on them, and she was rocking back and forth, babbling in Irish. Snape caught her as she fell, and held her while she cried.  
  
He very nearly said that he was sorry, but he checked himself. He thought, What possible difference would it make now? He rocked her as if he was the mother and she was the child. He bit his lip as she cried.  
  
She finally regained control of herself. She looked at the man who was holding her. Six-foot-two, he was, and he could have stopped her at any time. She said, "I'm not going to apologize to you, Mr. Snape."  
  
He sighed, and replied, "Have I asked you to?"  
  
She glared back at him, thinking, I drew the man's blood with my fingernails, and he can still sit there cool as a cucumber. Frigging unnatural Limey bastard. She asked him, "My babies - how could you?"  
  
Snape flinched briefly and quickly, but then rallied and replied, "You're no more interested in hearing the answer than I am in answering."  
  
She spat back, "There couldn't be any excuse. But you could say you're sorry."  
  
He gave her a thin smile, which combined with the blood on his face, made her shudder. He stood up, and began to pace. He said, "Your brother-in-law's family gone. Your children, in pain, terrified, probably crying for their mother with the last breath they were able to draw. And no more children for you, ever."   
  
Aoife closed her eyes for a moment, to get rid of the image of the blood-stained man. However, his words painted a picture of things she had never been able to get out of her mind. Her eyes opened as the realization hit her. He hasn't been able to get these images out of his mind either. She looked at him, clad all in black and pacing like a panther in a cage. He wound up with, "What of all that would change if I said I was sorry?"  
  
She yelled at him, "It's not about changing the past, you black-hearted murdering bastard, it's about saving your frigging worthless soul!"  
  
He started laughing, harder and harder. She sprang to her feet and began to run around the room, looking for something that she could kill him with. He slid down to the floor, and she realized that he was crying. He shook his head and pushed her away when she hesitantly attempted to hold him. He choked out, "Words aren't enough."  
  
Aoife rocked back on her heels. He'll let me rip his face open, but he won't let me hold him while he's crying. Christ, did my daughter ever pick a tough one. What did her Da and I do wrong? She snarled, "Tears can't wash away blood, and you're right that words aren't enough, you shite. You have to prove it to me that you're sorry, with your actions. Right actions."  
  
He shook his head, and kept on crying. She finally had to give him an open- handed slap across the face to stop it. She said, "Do you know what the worst part is?"  
  
Snape's voice was rough from crying and laughing, but he still managed to sneer back, "Tell me."  
  
Aoife spat out, "The worst part is that not only can God forgive you, but He expects me to do so as well."  
  
Snape snorted, and she thought for a moment that he was going to start laughing again. He collected himself and replied, "Now, we both know one of those is quite unlikely and the other one is impossible."  
  
Aoife snarled, "I said, 'forgive.' Not 'Forget what you've done.'"  
  
He retorted, "I heard what you said."  
  
Aoife took a deep breath. "If you don't think forgiveness is possible, what was the point of your changing sides?"  
  
Snape stood up, and Aoife followed suit. He said, "I changed sides because I was wrong. Not because it cancelled anything out." He pulled up his left sleeve, and showed her the Dark Mark on his arm.  
  
Aoife looked at the Dark Mark. She bit her lip to keep from smiling at the thought that here was a living example of the old milk-bottle story, and how Purgatory was necessary to clean the remaining traces of sin off people's souls after they died. The story went that the human soul was like a milk bottle, and the stains of sin on the soul were like dirty fingerprints left on it, even after an attempt to wipe it clean. She had told it to her children herself; "God forgives, but he doesn't forget." She frowned at the thought of her children, dead because of this man.  
  
Snape continued on, "Faded, for the most part, but permanent. I cannot make it go away, I cannot bring the dead back to life, and I do not see any point in my serving as your punching bag on a recurring basis. So -"  
  
Aoife interrupted him. "You could make an antidote. For that hellish gas of yours."  
  
The very last expression she had expected to see on his face was irritated incomprehension, but that was what she was seeing now. He said, "Another one? Any variation on the original antidote would be inferior -"  
  
She flew at him again, screaming, "Liar!" He held her off with an ease that suggested he was serious about not being her punching bag again. He gripped her shoulders and held her in the air, at his arms'-length. She flailed around helplessly as she attempted to reach him, but all she could do was hit and scratch his arms. She kicked out at him, but he swayed so that he took the kicks on his side and not in his groin.  
  
"Considering what I have already admitted to, why should I lie about that?" he said.  
  
"There is no antidote!" Aoife shrieked.  
  
"Nonsense," Snape retorted. "It's a complicated process, and the ingredients and results aren't cheap, but I gave the formula to the Ministry years ago. One of my first assignments for Dumbledore."  
  
Aoife started to cry. "They never told me. Those frigging bastards never told me." Snape lowered her down. She lashed out at Snape one final time as she collapsed to the floor, and Snape wound up going down with her.  
  
At that point, Edmund Vector opened the door to the dining room, with a folder in his hand. "Aoife, darling?" he said. He entered the room, and came to a halt when he saw his wife and his daughter's - fiancé - sprawled on the floor together, both spattered with blood. "What precisely is going on here?" he asked, in a too-calm voice, as the folder dropped from his hand.  
  
Aoife scrambled to her feet. "Guess who came up with the formula for that gas, Edmund dearest," she replied.  
  
"What gas?" Edmund replied.  
  
"That gas that was used on August 10, 1975," Aoife said.  
  
Edmund stood stock-still while he processed this information. He said, again in that too-calm voice, "I know all about it, Aoife darling. But by the time I got told about it, the bastard had already switched sides, so I couldn't kill him."  
  
Aoife's eyes flashed as she glared at her husband. "You stupid men and your goddamned frigging games. Why didn't you avenge your children?"  
  
Edmund's mouth thinned. "I swore before the Divine Presence at the Westminster Cathedral altar that if Snape ever went off the straight and narrow, that I would kill him, and damn the consequences."  
  
"And did you know that he had made an antidote to that frigging gas?"  
  
Edmund's eyebrows shot up. "Now that I was not aware of." His eyes narrowed. "My former colleagues have quite a great deal of explaining to do to me."  
  
Aoife Vector's eyes were alight with the battle-light now. "And to me as well."  
  
Edmund gave her a very predatory smile. "The great Gaels of Ireland," he muttered.  
  
Aoife returned his smile. "Are the men that God made mad," she quoted back at her husband. The two chorused, "For all their wars are merry, And all their songs are sad."  
  
Edmund brought his wife's blood-stained hand to his mouth, and kissed it. "Madame Vector, let us attack." She gave him a brilliant smile back.  
  
Snape watched the two with great fascination as he slowly stood up. He thought, If Aoife Finnigan Vector had attended Hogwarts, she would have made a magnificent Slytherin. And the gods help anyone who ever got in her way.  
  
Edmund turned his attention back to Snape. Aoife glared at Snape and muttered things under her breath about Snape's intelligence, ancestry and his eventual fate in the afterlife. Edmund said to her, "Aoife, dear, Snape is not at the top of the list of those who are guilty in our children's death." Edmund looked over at Snape. "Severus Snape, did you devise the formula for the poison gas that was used in that attack?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did you know the gas was going to be used in that attack?"  
  
"No, not specifically."  
  
"Did you know there was going to be an attack?"  
  
"What else are you going to use a gas like that for?"  
  
"That's not what I meant. Did you know where and when, and by whom?"  
  
"I didn't know the specifics because I didn't want to."  
  
"Did you participate in manufacturing the gas?"  
  
"No, but I would have if they'd asked me."  
  
"Did you participate in the attack itself?"  
  
"No, but I would have if they'd asked me."  
  
"Would you have given Lestrange the gas if you had known what he planned to do with it?"  
  
"At that point, yes. " Snape's mouth twisted. "I was a Death Eater, we were going to change the world, purify the race."  
  
Edmund asked, "How old were you when all this happened?"  
  
Snape replied, "It was just after my fifth year at Hogwarts. I was sixteen."  
  
Edmund drawled, "So, you were sixteen and hated the world and everybody in it. When did you leave the Death Eaters?"  
  
Snape said, "I was twenty-one."  
  
"And what did you do after you left?"  
  
"I confessed to Dumbledore, then became an informant."  
  
"And when did you make the antidote for the gas?"  
  
"When I was twenty-one. It was one of the first things I did for Dumbledore."  
  
"Why did you leave?"  
  
Snape choked.  
  
Edmund asked, "Did you stop hating the world?"  
  
Snape said, "No, but I realized they weren't any better. They were worse."  
  
Edmund smiled coldly. "You are guilty of willful ignorance and of felony murder, Severus Snape. However, you were a minor -- "  
  
Snape interrupted, "I knew what I was doing."  
  
Edmund said, "I don't dispute that. But someone should have stopped you. Your parents, your Head of House, Headmaster Dumbledore, the Ministry, somebody should have known. And you would not have been in a position to commit those crimes if people who were older and who should have known better weren't doing worse."  
  
Snape was nonplussed by this. "So where do we go from here, Mr. Vector?"  
  
Edmund replied, "I decided many years ago to let you live. I see no reason to change my decision, unless you harm my daughter. Is that perfectly clear?"  
  
"Admirably," Snape said.  
  
Aoife nodded.  
  
Edmund asked, "Who did you give the information about the antidote to?"  
  
"I submitted the information to Menelaus Fisher, and his supervisor was Niniane Pangbourne."  
  
Edmund said, "I know Niniane Pangbourne. I'll speak to her."'  
  
Snape said, "I assume that you will tell Emmy about this?"  
  
Edmund replied, "No. I will not. Nor do I see any reason why you or anyone," he looked at his wife, "should."  
  
Snape was quite stunned by that. "What? Why?"  
  
Edmund said, "She knows your past and the type of thing you were responsible for. It shouldn't matter if it was our family or someone else's."  
  
Aoife snorted. "That's the type of thing that only a cold-blooded Englishman could do."  
  
Edmund said, "Aoife! They were my children as well, as Emmy is. 'Let the dead bury their dead,' and it wasn't an Englishman who said that."  
  
Aoife said, "I'm sorry, Edmund."  
  
Edmund sighed. "You're wild Irish, but I'll civilize you yet, my dear."  
  
Snape opened his mouth, and closed it again. He realized that his presence was utterly superfluous. He nodded to the two. "Mr. Vector. Mrs. Vector. I think I should be going now."  
  
Edmund and Aoife merely nodded in response to Snape's voice, and continued to stare at each other.  
  
Snape caught sight of his face in the mirror in the front hall as he took his cloak off the coat rack. His future mother-in-law had truly gone berserk, and his face looked horrible. He brought out a handkerchief, wiped most of the blood off, and pulled a healing potion out of his cloak. It would be quite difficult to explain to anyone who saw him just what had happened. And he really didn't want to explain to Emmy why her mother had seen fit to attempt to rip his face off with her fingernails. It would get into matters that her father had as good as ordered him to keep quiet about. Not to mention how Emmy might react to the news.  
  
As he worked on his face, he overheard Aoife and Edmund Vector talking.  
  
Aoife said, "Are they hiding the formula as a secret weapon?"  
  
He heard Edmund replying, "No, they probably just misfiled it. Never attribute to malice what can be attributed to stupidity. Menelaus Fisher was never very bright. And Niniane Pangbourne always spent more time arguing with him than properly supervising him. No allegiance to Voldemort in her, regardless of what other members of her family had done."  
  
Aoife said, "They have no right to be this stupid! There are people's lives involved here!"  
  
He heard a sigh, "That's why I let young Snape off the hook."  
  
Aoife spat, "I want to go teach them a lesson to not be stupid!"  
  
Snape shuddered, and decided to Floo back to Hogwarts at that point, before she came looking for him again. He could well believe Emmy's words now, that Michael had taken after their mother. Just my luck. My future mother- in-law is Mad Maeve O'Connaught herself, my future father-in-law is willing to kill me if I ever go off the straight and narrow, or if I harm his daughter, and my future brother-in-law is a berserker. And Emmy has a fine temper of her own. Bloody wonderful. What precisely have I done by agreeing to marry That Woman? He Flooed back to Hogwarts.  
  
In the Vectors' sitting room, Edmund raised an eyebrow at his wife. "How do you propose we go teach them a lesson? They will be doing the national security dance and attempting to hide their incompetence. They won't admit to anything."  
  
Aoife's smile sharpened. "We'll just have to make them." She started to pace around the room, then turned back to him and said, "On reflection, I think that what we are going to do is to give an exclusive interview to the Daily Prophet, the one that they've been begging me for all these years. I'm going to tell them about our children's deaths, and my infertility, and how the Ministry has deliberately withheld the antidote ever since they got their hands on it."  
  
Edmund Vector frowned. "Aoife darling, we have been over this again and again. I cannot talk to the Press, and you cannot either."  
  
Aoife retorted, "Edmund Ignatius Vector, you have been 'officially retired' from the Ministry for over twenty years. What are they going to do? Now, if you're still afraid of what they'll do to you, you don't have to talk to the press at all. But I am not going to sit silent anymore, my dear."  
  
Edmund glared back at his wife. "I don't trust those reporters at the Prophet any further than I can throw them with my bare hands. I am not going to send you to deal alone with them. God only knows what sort of claptrap they'd twist out of our story." He let out a hiss of breath, and ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair. "Let's think of something to do that doesn't involve blowing Professor Snape's cover. He needs to live until the wedding, at the least. I propose quiet blackmail first, and then a leak. This will finish me at the Ministry, at least until the war heats up. In every organization, there is a point at which the idiot density builds up so high that a sensible person who remains is no longer a good influence, but an accomplice, and I always hoped I'd get out before that happened."  
  
"You want Snape to marry our daughter?" Aoife shouted.  
  
Edmund shook his head. "Not particularly. I would be perfectly content if she did break it off with him. But remember, we tried interfering the last time, and it did not work. It has to be her decision, Aoife." Aoife crossed her arms and thrust her lower lip out. Edmund embraced her, and rubbed her shoulders. "Aoife, remember, we told her not to join the Muggle world, we told her not to marry or stay with that rat bastard Donovan, and she did exactly the opposite. And you have to admit, Snape's grown up better than you'd expect from his early career. At least he has a brain and something resembling a conscience."  
  
"So we should tell her to marry Snape, then? You're going beyond tolerance." Aoife said, looking up at her husband.  
  
Edmund sighed and shook his head. "Aoife, the war is heating up. She could do a lot worse than Snape. At least he has the desire and the ability to protect her as much as she'll let herself be protected."  
  
Aoife said, "Why couldn't she have married that nice Bill Weasley boy? "  
  
Edmund snorted. "Well, I don't think he ever asked her. I think Bill Weasley would have been more interested in Mike than Emmy."  
  
"That nice boy; what a waste."  
  
Edmund shrugged. "He seems happy, and the Weasley name is in no danger of extinction."  
  
Aoife said, "I wish Michael would find somebody and settle down."  
  
Edmund grinned. "Other than Bill Weasley, you mean."  
  
Aoife threw a pillow at him. Edmund ducked it, and grabbed her around the waist. He swung her off her feet, and around in the air. Aoife slid down against the length of his body, and kissed him firmly on the mouth.  
  
When she came up for air, Edmund murmured, "It's nice to have the children out from underfoot."  
  
Aoife gave him a throaty laugh. "You wicked Englishman."  
  
Edmund retorted as he lowered her to the sofa, "You love it when I'm wicked."  
  
Aoife gave him a sweet smile, and said, "It almost makes up for you being English."  
  
Edmund growled, "Almost, Aoife?" as he started to kiss her more fiercely and undo the rest of her hair.  
  
End of Chapter 36 


	37. Yet More InLaws

Chapter 37 

Snape headed straight to his rooms, in a swirl of cloak and robes, after getting back from the Vectors'. Once he made it to safety, he locked the door, poured himself a large tot of Old Ogden's, and sat down in a chair. He gulped the firewhiskey down, in frantic relief at his narrow escape. The Baron drifted through the wall. "How did it go with her parents, Snape?" the ghost asked. 

Snape frowned. "I suppose it could have been worse."

"How so?"

Snape stared at the fireplace. "They could have killed me."

The Baron blinked. "Are they likely to try?"

Snape let out a breath. "No, I don't think so. Assault, battery, and conditional threats were all I had to deal with."

The Baron said, "You're right; things could have been worse." 

"Indeed. It seems I was personally responsible for the death of Emmy's younger siblings, and her mother finally found this out." Snape poured himself another tot of firewhiskey, and took a swallow. 

The Baron raised an eyebrow. "That was the assault and battery, or the conditional threats?"

Snape muttered, "Her mother is a mad berserker, and her father is a psychopathic civil servant." 

The Baron said, "A fine family. You'll fit right in." 

Snape narrowed his eyes as he faced the Baron. "Do I _want _to fit into that family, is the question?"

"Of course you do." 

"Why me?"

The Baron snorted. "Could you imagine if your in-laws were some sweet little Hufflepuffs or oh-so-noble Gryffindors? From your description, at least the Vectors can deal with you."

"Can I deal with them, is the question?"

"They're in Ireland. You and your lady are here." 

"But her brother is here. Oh ye gods. Her brother." Snape took another swallow of firewhiskey.

Father Sorin drifted through the closed door. "How did it go, my son?"

Snape looked at him, then said, "Baron, you tell him." The Baron quickly informed Father Sorin of what had transpired.

Father Sorin whistled through his teeth. "Blood feud with her parents. How traditionally Slytherin of you, Snape."

Snape glared at the ghosts. "Either give me some constructive advice, or go away and let me drink my firewhiskey in peace."

"Watch your back," the Baron said. 

Snape asked, "Why? She went after my face."

The Baron sneered, "You must have caught her off guard." 

Snape set down his glass with a resounding _clonk_. "On what do you base that amazingly unlikely speculation?"

The Baron coolly said, "Even berserkers can manage simple weapons, say, a sharp or heavy object. If she went for you bare-handed, you obviously took her by surprise. " 

Father Sorin murmured, "Of course, she is getting along in years."

The Baron snorted, "That doesn't signify, because berserkers are unstoppable on the attack. Afterwards, they may fall over dead." 

Snape cleared his throat. "If the two of you are trying to encourage me to count my blessings, your efforts are sadly misplaced." 

Father Sorin said, "Well, you can reflect that things can only get better."

Snape muttered, "Indeed. Next time, she might remember where the sharp or heavy objects are. " 

Father Sorin said, "Stop whining. The question is, did they consent to your marriage?"

Snape replied, "Strangely enough, I believe they did." 

Father Sorin rubbed his hands together and said, "Well, then. Have you informed your fiancŽe of this?"

"Not yet."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Until I can be blandly evasive when she asks how it went," Snape retorted.

"Bland evasiveness does not sound like the best standard to take with regard to one's fiancŽe."

Snape glared at the Hufflepuff ghost. "Explain that to her father, why don't you? I'm sure he'll think of something to threaten you with, dead though you are." 

Father Sorin murmured, "He does sound formidable."

"You have no idea."

Father Sorin shrugged. "You should be very pleased he's entrusting you with his daughter."

" 'I'll kill you if you hurt her' doesn't sound like entrusting to me," Snape said. 

"Ah, you'll understand when you have a daughter." 

"_If_ I ever have a daughter, unless there's something Emmy's not telling me." 

"Do you believe she's lying to you?" Father Sorin asked Snape. 

He snorted. "She eats nothing but colcannon and ice cream, she cries at the drop of a hat Ð she certainly seems to be showing the symptoms."

"I didn't ask if you thought she was pregnant. I asked if you thought she was lying to you," Father Sorin said.

"But -- how could she not know Ð " 

"Yes or no? Do you think she's lying to you?"

Snape shook his head. "I don't know why she would lie to me."

"Do you think she's lying to you? Yes or no?" Father Sorin repeated, quite loudly.

Snape let out an exasperated huff of breath, and ran his hand over his forehead and through his hair. "I don't think she's lying, but I don't think she has an Irish tapeworm, either." 

The Baron asked, "If you think she might be pregnant, despite the test results, why don't you suggest she take another test?"

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that," Snape said. 

Father Sorin shook his head. "One could wonder how much you're thinking at all at this point," he muttered. 

Snape glared at him. "One could wonder how much _she's_ thinking at this point, _if_ she's thinking, which I seriously doubt." 

Father Sorin said, "If you're correct, she's pregnant. What's your excuse?"

"The possibility of marriage and incipient fatherhood, that's mine." 

Father Sorin nodded. "Good reason. Bless you, my son, and don't drink too much of that." The Friar pointed to the firewhiskey bottle. "You don't want to be hung over when you have the conversation with her." 

The ghosts drifted back through the walls. "Good night, Severus," they said. 

The next morning, Emmy Vector was at the High Table when Snape came in for breakfast. "How did it go with my parents, Severus?" she asked when he sat down beside her. 

Snape frowned at her. _How could That Woman be so bloody cheerful in the morning?_ He noticed that she had only tea and toast set before her. He helped himself to some blood pudding. He noticed that she wrinkled her nose and turned pale. Is_ she pregnant and lying to me about it? _He frowned at the thought. _She should not find it necessary to lie to me. If she is pregnant, I will do the right and proper thing and marry her straightaway. She should know that. After all, I saved her from Lucius Malfoy._

"Your father informed me that if I ever went off the straight and narrow, that he would kill me," he finally said. 

"Oh, he must like you a bit. He's given you fair warning in advance." She took a sip of her tea, chamomile from the smell, and asked him, "And what did my mother think of you?"

Snape paused for a moment. "I believe that she will come around eventually." 

"That bad, was it?"

Snape decided to change the subject. He said softly out of the corner of his mouth, "Tea and toast in the morning, colcannon and ice cream at least eight times in the last two weeks." He dropped his voice to a whisper, leaned toward her, and asked, "Are you entirely sure you're not pregnant, Emmy?" 

Emmy looked down at her lap. She hissed back, "Severus, I had my courses and the test came back negative. Problem solved. I'm an Arithmancer; I move on when the problem is already solved."

"Then why are you eating colcannon and ice cream constantly?"

Emmy's lips started trembling. She turned them in so no trace of them could be seen, and swiftly got up and left the Great Hall. Snape dropped his fork and ran after her. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws who were awake and at breakfast watched them go. Blaise Zabini grinned. "Go for it, Old Bat!" he muttered. "Roger her right and proper!" Millie Bulstrode smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Zabini!"

Snape finally caught up with Emmy halfway to the Arithmancy classroom. She ducked into an empty classroom, and he followed her before she could lock the door on him. He cornered her against the wall. "What the devil is the matter with you, Emmy?" he asked her. 

She burst into tears, and he held her awkwardly. He could make out the words, "Madness Ð Arithmancer curse Ð" from her. He started stroking her shoulders. She finally stopped crying, and took a deep breath. "Now what were you saying, Emmy?" he asked her.

She wiped the tears off her face, and said, "Severus, I'm afraid I'm going mad. It's quite the occupational hazard among mathematicians and Arithmancers."

"Why do you think you're going mad?" he said, as he brought his hands up to the side of her face, to wipe the tears off. 

She touched her tongue to her upper lip, and said, "I am experiencing symptoms which make me think that I Ð that I have a hysterical pregnancy, and I can't figure out why the symptoms haven't stopped now that I've figured it out."

He sneered at her, "You do know where the word 'hysteria' comes from?"

Emmy pulled herself away from him. "My womb is empty, Severus!"

"Is that an invitation?"

"SEVERUS SNAPE!" Emmy shrieked. 

He sneered, "Take another test, my dear. It's either pregnancy or an eating disorder. And now, we both have classes to teach."

"I'm off campus this weekend, Severus."

"Then I will see you on Monday, and I want the results." 

Emmy muttered, "The nerve."

"What did you just say?"

Emmy said, more loudly, "The nerve of you. I told you I'm a mathematician. Problem solved. Who do you think you are to tell me to take another test?"

Snape watched her chest heave, and her lips quiver. He grabbed her and kissed her, full on the mouth. He could taste her salty tears and smell her perfume, and he wanted to kiss her into her senses, until the tears stopped and she was back to herself again. He could feel her hands moving from his back to his shoulders to his neck. He pulled her closer and closer. He finally broke the kiss so that he could breathe, and then muttered in her ear, "Your fiancŽ and potentially the father of a child with you, that's who I think am." He held her out at arm's length and said, "Take another test, or I'll run a test on you, my dear." He shook her very gently. "Think on that." 

He let her go, and swept out the door.

Emmy muttered, " The nerve of That Man. I won't take another test. Serve him right. He must learn he's dealing with an Arithmancer." _But pregnancy or an eating disorder are either one preferable to insanity,_ a small voice told her. "All right," she muttered. "I'll schedule a full-scale Muggle physical with NHS off-campus, and an appointment at St. Kieron's over Christmas holidays if I can get in." 

That afternoon at the Ministry, an owl arrived at Michael Vector's office. Mike got up from his desk, fed the owl a treat, and let it go. He recognized his mother's handwriting on the outside of the envelope. He sighed, and tore open the envelope. If she was writing him here instead of waiting until he got home, it had to be bad news. The letter said, 

Dear Michael: I am writing this to inform you that your father has approved of your sister's engagement to that Severus Snape. If "I'll kill you if you hurt her" counts as approval, that is. (His approval subject to the usual conditions, in other words.) I don't want to hear any more objections from you until you bring home a fiancŽe yourself. He has at least two positive attributes, I suppose; he's alive and breathing. There are no obvious reasons why he shouldn't be able to father children. And do not take this as a challenge to bring home somebody totally inappropriate. Vector family tradition be damned. It's time you started some traditions of your own. How is work going, son? Your father was amused to hear from his friends at the Ministry, "Auror Vector has assaulted a Dementor. Merlin help us, the man needs a girlfriend." When are you finally going to bring a nice young lady home, Mike? Not to pressure you into making any sudden decisions, but it would be nice if your father lived to see at least _one_ grandchild. Looking forward to seeing you next Sunday after Mass for dinner. Love, Ma. 

Mike Vector reread his mother's letter again, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into a pocket in his waistcoat. He looked up to see Mad-Eye Moody standing in front of his desk.

"Oy, Vector. Bad news?" Alastor Moody said to Vector. 

"My sister's gone and got herself engaged to that greasy git Severus Snape," Mike said. Mike got up from his chair, and started to pace around. "And it's as good as official now. My father approved of it, for Christ's sake!"

Moody sucked his teeth. "Don't suppose you can talk her out of it?" he asked.

Mike shook his head. "Don't think so." Mike kept on pacing around the room. "I'm worried she's making a mistake as bad or worse than the time she ran off with that Yank Muggle."

Moody grunted. "You're right to worry."

Mike stopped, shoved his hands into his pockets, and mumbled, "If I could find the right thing to say, maybe she'd call it off before it's too late."

Moody said, "Hard to do, to tell a woman what to do about a man."

Mike said, "I suppose that Snape's got himself a fine past."

"You might be right in that," Moody replied.

Mike sighed. "Oh well. Man proposes and woman disposes." He fell silent for a moment. "And speaking of women, how do you think the Harpies are going to do in the playoffs?"

Moody snorted. "Who cares other than the touts?"

"Oh, come off it, Moody. Don't you like seeing the ladies mounted on their broomsticks, in their Quidditch costumes?"

"You've been single too long, Vector. Ogling the Harpies, of all teams. None of their witches are worth a second look." Moody shook his head. "Your family and its weird traditions. You should have found yourself a wife at least ten years ago." 

"It takes two, Moody," Mike muttered. Then he changed the subject again. "On another tack, Moody, I don't suppose you know where we keep the transcripts from interrogations and confessions, the ones we're not supposed to know about?"

Moody narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Last I heard, they were stored in the Department of Mysteries. And you didn't hear that from me, mind you. But those boffins in Mysteries are quite slick with keeping their records to themselves. And they could have changed things around and not told me."

Mike nodded and laughed. "True. They never seem to let the left hand know what the right hand is doing around here, do they?"

Moody frowned. "That's what comes of having somebody in charge who couldn't find hisÉ" he trailed off as Tonks came into the room. 

"Moody. Vector," Tonks said to the other two Aurors. "Are we on for tonight? Shacklebolt'll meet us there."

Moody replied, "Count me in. What about you, Vector?"

Mike shook his head. "Think I'm going to stay in and get some things done. My laundry's almost ready to do itself out of sheer self-defense by now, and I'm sure my icebox has a new civilization growing in it."

Tonks made a face. "Yuck. Bachelors."

"Could be worse, Tonksey," Mike said. "You could be married to me."

Tonks wrinkled her nose. "Eurgh. As if I'd want to spend my life cleaning up after the likes of you."

Mike grinned and thumped his own chest. "A hit, a hit, a palpable hit." The other two Aurors went to leave. Mike said, "I'll see you at Sunday Mass at the Cathedral, Tonksey. See you Monday, Moody." Mike watched the other two Aurors leave, and then proceeded to the Mysteries offices himself. It was now half-past five on Friday evening, and everybody would be gone soon. If anyone else stayed late and caught Mike here, he'd simply say that he'd had some paperwork to catch up with before he left for the weekend. He'd used the excuse many times before when he gathered information for Emmy. The cover of "cleaning" was also quite useful to get out of going out drinking with the other Aurors. 

Mike Vector was now as neat as a cat, but he found it useful to maintain the old image of "Big Brute Bachelor Lout." It kept the single women he worked with away from him, and a few gross stories told in mixed company kept the married women from trying to matchmake too much. Although he wouldn't have minded the right kind of matchmaking, but it was just that he lived a delicate life, balancing the Ministry and Aurors against Emmy's work for Dumbledore. And very few women would put up with that kind of double life in a husband. He honestly didn't understand how his mother put up with his father's secret work. He wasn't stupid. He knew his own father was more than a college instructor of mathematics in Ireland. He snorted. _Fortunate in his investments, my left foot! Follow the money trail, boyo, that'll get you the answers nine times out of ten._ But if his father hadn't seen fit to confide in him, he himself would not bring the matter up. _And if Father had to wait to get married until he was over forty and found the right woman, I can certainly wait my fair turn. I just hope that I get my fair turn this time, and don't lose Millie like I lost Olivia Pangbourne._

Mike made his way into the Mysteries office fairly easily. He wasn't quite as good at Arithmancy as his father and sister were, but he could improvise well enough to get around most spells, particularly when he'd had a chance to deal with them before. And the boffins in Mysteries didn't randomize their codes enough to keep him out of where he wanted to go! 

He frowned as he looked around. _Now where would the transcripts of confessions be? Maybe in the little office off the room with those brains sitting in the jars. Nasty heathenish things those are, to quote Mother. And what do they use them for, anyway?_ Mike made his way toward the tiny little office, keeping well clear of those brains. He finally found the transcripts, which were hidden behind a Confundus-type Charm. Mike pulled out the boxes of transcripts, and started sorting through them. They seemed to have no rhyme or reason to their organization, but he finally found a box that looked about twenty years old. He opened it up, and let out a low whistle at his luck. _First one out of the gate was the right one to have picked_, he thought.

Michael Vector sat staring at the report. It was the written summary of Severus Snape's confession of events he had been party to when he was affiliated with the Death Eaters. "Sonofabitch," Mike whispered. "Son-of-a-bitch!"He started reading. "He got mixed up with those bastards by the time he was sixteen years old. Before we even left Hogwarts. God-dammed frigging son-of-a-bitch!" 

Mike started reading the report: Summer 1975 Ð Subject devised a formula for poison gas which was used in an attack on Diagon Alley, August 10, 1975. Subject believes that Antonin Dolohov, Livia Wilkes, Evan Rosier, Crassina Travers, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, and Rodolphus Lestrange manufactured the gas and/or conducted the actual attack. Mike started counting pages. The box the report had been in was a good two inches thick. "_Duplicatus_," Mike murmured, and the report duplicated itself. Mike scanned the duplicate for anti-theft and tracing spells, removed them, and then applied a disguising charm to it, to make it look like an ordinary ream of parchment. He started looking through the other boxes. "Confession of Severus Snape about events in 1976É 1977É 1978É 1979É 1980.' Mike Vector duplicated all these boxes, scanned them, and applied the disguising charms. He then applied a shrinking spell, and was left with six little squares that looked something like notepads made out of parchment. He smiled grimly, and left the room. 

Back at Hogwarts, Snape frowned at the strange blonde woman in her twenties who was sitting in a chair in his office that evening after dinner. He had seen her before somewhere, but he couldn't recall exactly where. The woman was apparently tall, blue-eyed, and thin, without too much in the way of a figure visible under her Healer's robes. "Who are you, how did you get in here, and what do you want?" he said.

The blonde gave him a rather familiar smile. "Is that any way to greet your sister-in-law, Severus?"

"Sister-in-law? " Snape spluttered. _My future mother-in-law has a heavier hand than I thought. I must be hallucinating._

"Sorry. I forgot the official ceremony hasn't taken place yet. Your future sister-in-law, then."

"But Emmy doesn't have any sistersÉOh, Merlin, no," he said, and sank down into a chair.

"Oh, Merlin, yes. Margaret Anne Vector, at your service. Call me Meg." The woman nodded her head. 

"I killed you when you were five years old. Why am I seeing you as an adult?"

"Partly because you don't get on well with children, partly because you regret what you did, and you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't given Lestrange the formula for the poison gas. However, you didn't kill me. The Lestranges and Malfoy were the ones who actually mixed up the stuff and conducted the attack. You were merely an accessory before the fact. Perhaps guilty of felony murder, but you weren't an adult yourself at the time."

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be dead!" Snape yelled.

Meg Vector pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, and shook her head. "I'm not so sure of that. You weren't the only person who knew about potions in that nest of Death Eaters. You were just one of the ones who had the most expertise. They could and probably would have found someone else to devise something just as bad. Don't take more guilt on your head than you deserve."

"So I'm seeing you as you would have been?"

"Perhaps. Or I could have been hit by a car that night, for all we know." And then Meg suddenly lost several years of age, and was wearing a Hogwarts uniform in Slytherin colors, with a Head Girl badge pinned on her cloak. "Or I could have died at this age, in a different Death Eater attack."

Snape flinched, and said, "Most murderers are haunted by their victims in an effort to ensure a confession or a suicide. What do you have in mind?"

Meg replied mildly, "My goodness, you do have a limited imagination, don't you? I'm not here for vengeance."

Snape growled, "If you're not here for vengeance, what are you here for? Comic relief?"

Meg shook her head. "First, we Slytherins have to stick together. Second, we were asked to help, and we said yes."

Snape said, "We Slytherins have to stick together? Asked by whom? And we? And why?"

Meg gave an exasperated sigh, pulled out her uniform tie, and waved it at Snape. "Severus. Look at my attire. I would have been in Slytherin if I had lived long enough. I took after my mother in more than my coloring. 'We' are my little sister and brothers, and myself. Whom and whyÉ" She frowned. "The reason there aren't more wizards in the Catholic Church is that wizards have no tolerance for mystery. You're as bad as Muggle scientists. You make the motions and say the words and things are supposed to happen, like clockwork." 

Snape glared at her. "You haven't answered all of my questions."

Meg said, "No. You might try reading the books of Job and Tobit, and go look up 'the communion of saints,' and 'Life everlasting' in the Catechism. Until later, brother-in-law dear. You have someone else here to see you." She vanished.

Snape turned to his sitting room door. Millie Bulstrode was standing there. She murmured, "Such a mouth for such a little girlÉ"

Snape glared at her, thinking, _I am not going to play for sympathy, Bulstrode. You don't know the troubles I've seen._ He paused as he realized, _Wait a minute; this is one of my students, therefore one of my problems. And one of my problems even before she conceived this weird passion for Michael Vector, of all people._ He snarled, "I put up with almost limitless insolence from the ghosts of people I've murdered." 

Millie's eyes widened, and she took a large step back. Snape thought, _Excellent. I haven't lost my ability to intimidate, despite acquiring a fiancŽe. And apparently ghostly interfering in-laws-to-be._ He asked, "What's going on, Miss Bulstrode?" 

Millie said, "I think Pansy Parkinson's got her hands on one of my letters to Michael Vector. I just thought I should warn you before she reads it aloud."

Snape said, "Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Bulstrode. Thank you for the warning. Let's go watch the fun."

Pansy Parkinson did indeed have one of Millie Bulstrode's letters to Michael Vector. She waved it in the air, and said, "Bulstrode-the-Troll has a boyfriend. Let me tell you what she's writing to him." She opened up the letter, and it started reading itself, in Millie's voice. 

The letter said, "Darling: You will never guess what Pansy 'they'll bury me in a y-shaped coffin' Parkinson is up to now." Pansy tried to stuff the letter back in the envelope. 

Adrian Pucey said, "Well, what does it say, Pansy? If only Draco Malfoy knewÉ" 

Malfoy grabbed the letter, and reopened it. The letter said, "Darling: Malfoy, pureblood though he is, couldn't find his crotch with both hands if his underwear was on fire." Draco quickly stuffed the letter back in the envelope and dropped it. No one else dared to pick it up.

Pansy started to scream insults about Millie. "That troll bitch! That slapper, that slag, that oversized tart! How dare she write those things about me?" 

Snape emerged from behind a door. "What's the meaning of this?" 

Adrian Pucey started to say, "A slapper isÉ" but quickly shut up when Corentyn Warrington gave him an elbow in the ribs. 

Pansy grabbed up the letter again, waved it at Professor Snape, and yelled, "Look at what she wrote about me!"

Snape clasped his hands behind his back, so that there was no chance of touching the letter by accident. He said, "Since the letter is not addressed to me, I will do no such thing."

Zabini mumbled the name of the spell to his neighbor. 

Snape said, "That's very astute, Zabini. If you were more astute, you wouldn't have let anyone know you knew that." He turned his attention back to Pansy. "Did Miss Bulstrode write this letter to you?"

Pansy sulked, "Well, no, not exactly."

"Clarify what you mean by not exactly."

Pansy said, "No." 

Snape sneered, "Did you think she would not object to your reading it?" 

Pansy said, "No." 

Snape said, "I see. Perhaps you should come to my office, and we will discuss this in private." Pansy thrust out her lower lip. Snape said, "Or we could discuss this in public if you prefer, Miss Parkinson, perhaps before a full meeting of the entire House." Pansy's jaw dropped, and she started moving toward the door out at a brisk clip.

As Pansy left the common room, Millie pounced on her and took the letter away. "That's what you get for taking my letters, Parkinson." 

Snape had to step in between the two girls. "Parkinson! Bulstrode! Enough. I will deal with Miss Parkinson privately, Miss Bulstrode." Millie nodded at him. 

Snape marched Pansy Parkinson off to his office, and ordered her, "Sit down, Miss Parkinson." She sat on the hard wooden chair in front of his desk. Snape loomed over her. "Miss Parkinson, that was one of the most appallingly idiotic displays I have ever seen from a member of Slytherin House. Have you been taking lessons from Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom, perhaps?" Pansy's jaw dropped in shock. "Since you apparently have lost whatever small ability to reason you possessed before you entered adolescence and became a hormonal walking disaster area, I will have to make things clear for you." 

Snape started to pace and tick off items on his fingers. "One. Don't openly steal letters from other members of the House; it is idiotic, particularly when doing so would make an enemy of somebody as big and strong as Bulstrode. Two. Don't get the cleverer members of the House angry with you. They will find a way to punish you. Three. If you do steal letters, have the common sense to read them privately and silently to yourself, alone, instead of attempting to do so aloud in the House common room. Four. Consider that the person you're accusing her of having a romantic connection with is a Civil Service berserker; do you really want the attention of an Auror whose most recent achievement has been killing a Dementor in a fit of mindless rage?"

Pansy turned pale and said, "Draco Malfoy says his father could find a way to fix her."

Snape curled his lip. "His father is good at thinking of these things, but if you place yourself under his protection, you will remove yourself from mine, as I will inform Miss Bulstrode. And I don't think she'll be inclined to keep silent about it either. If Miss Bulstrode knows, Auror Vector will undoubtedly know. And if Auror Vector is willing to take on a Dementor bare-handed, why should he take pause at Lucius Malfoy?"

Pansy started crying. "It's not fair!"

Snape said, "The transcendent idiocy of that statement could only be eclipsed by what you were about to say next. Miss Parkinson, think carefully."

Pansy fell silent, and bit her lower lip. She finally spat out, "What does _Bulstrode_, of all people, want with a boyfriend anyway?"

Snape asked her, "Are you expressing romantic interest in either Bulstrode or Auror Vector?"

Pansy gave a horrified cry of "No!"

Snape sighed and said, "Then we shall thank Merlin for small favors. I do not want to know whom you were trying to impress with this display, but I can confidently predict that the only thing you have impressed this person with is your utter lack of intelligence, cunning, and common sense." 

Pansy muttered very softly, "Men." 

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to expand on that?"

Pansy said, "No." 

Snape said, "I rejoice to see a glimmering of intelligence. I am tempted to remove ten points from you for your conduct, but then I would have to award Bulstrode ten points for the successful defense of her privacy, and I do not care to air the House dirty laundry in such a fashion." He went on in his lecture voice, "Miss Parkinson, you can get whatever you want if you pay the price. You would not have been sorted into Slytherin if you did not have the ability to get what you really want. However, there is always a price to pay, and you need to calculate it. Consider what you want, consider the cost, and decide if you really want to pay it." He paused, and said, "Dismissed, Miss Parkinson."

Pansy quickly left his office. Snape started thinking, _I wonder if my own daughter would ever be so idiotic over a boy. I suppose it's better to deal with it when they're younger than to have them break out in madness after leaving school, as Emmy did. I wonder which is worse: adolescent idiocy or delayed adolescent idiocy? Girls. Daughters. My daughter. Queen bee of Slytherin and all she surveys, maybe. And hopefully with Emmy's figure and face. Although then she'd have all the boys after her, and I'd have to deal with that. But if she's ugly like me, then I'll have to deal with temper tantrums over _that. 


End file.
